Hansen, the pastor of the Eskimo church; and Mr. Kaestner, the head of
the mission, and in special charge of the store and trading, by which
the mission is made nearly self-supporting; Mrs. Kaestner and Mrs.
Hansen complete the number, and the five make up a community almost
entirely isolated from white people during nine months of every year.

The fact that the two ladies spoke very little English was somewhat of
a drawback, but detracted very slightly from our enjoyment of Mrs.
Hanson's delightful singing and none at all from our appreciation of
her playing on the piano and organ. To get such a musical treat in the
Labrador wilds was most unexpected and for that reason all the more
thoroughly enjoyed.

The mission house is a yellow, barn-like building, heavily built to
prevent its being blown away, snugly stowed beneath a hill, and
seeming like a mother round which the huts of the Eskimo cluster. The
rooms in which we were so pleasantly entertained were very comfortably
and tastily furnished, a grand piano in one of them seeming out of
place in a village of Labrador, but so entirely in harmony with its
immediate surroundings that we hardly thought of the strangeness of
it, within a few yards of a village of pure Eskimo, living in all
their primitive customs and in their own land.

A few rods behind the mission are the gardens, cut up into small
squares by strong board fences to prevent the soil from blowing away,
each with a tarpaulin near by to spread over it at night. In this
laborious way potatoes, cabbages and turnips are raised. In a large
hothouse the missionaries raise tomatoes, lettuce, and also flowers,
but for everything else, except fish, game and ice, they have to
depend on the yearly visit of the Moravian mission ship. She left for