took from the inside of a seal, and her mother stretched over the
window-hole, to keep out the cold and to let in a little light.

Here lives our little girl; not as the brown baby does, among the
trees and the flowers, but far up in the cold countries amid snow and
ice.

If we look off now, over the ice, we shall see a funny little clumsy
thing, running along as fast as its short, stout legs will permit,
trying to keep up with its mother. You will hardly know it to be a
little girl, but might rather call it a white bear's cub, it is so
oddly dressed in the white, shaggy coat of the bear which its father
killed last month. But this is really Agoonack; you can see her round,
fat, greasy little face, if you throw back the white jumper-hood which
covers her head. Shall I tell you what clothes she wears?

Not at all like yours, you will say; but, when one lives in cold
countries, one must dress accordingly.

First, she has socks, soft and warm, but not knit of the white yarn
with which mamma knits yours. Her mamma has sewed them from the skins
of birds, with the soft down upon them to keep the small brown feet
very warm. Over these come her moccasins of sealskin.

If you have been on the seashore, perhaps you know the seals that
are sometimes seen swimming in the sea, holding up their brown heads,
which look much like dogs' heads, wet and dripping.

The seals love best to live in the seas of the cold countries: here
they are, huddled together on the sloping rocky shores, or swimming