little island, but no human beings were visible. Only a solitary
grampus made the circuit of our ship.

At length we round the last cape, and enter Zoar Bay. Presently we
come in sight of the station buildings between the fir-clad slope and
the shore. There is the store, now the mission-house and church appear
from behind yonder rock. The Eskimoes are firing their shots of
welcome, answered by rockets from the ship. Thank God, the station
flag is flying at the mast-head! That tells us that neither illness
nor accident have been permitted to carry off any of the missionaries.

Look behind you. The hills are glowing with a glorious
"Alpenglühen"--an evening effect as splendid as it is surprising.

Now we are nearer. They are launching the "Emily," the station boat.
Rowed by natives, she comes alongside almost as soon as our anchor is
down, and all the resident missionaries climb on board, followed by a
number of Eskimoes.

Soon our hosts carry us off to the hospitable little mission-house,
which somehow or another manages to find comfortable quarters for all
the visitors. I am writing up my diary in Mr. and Mrs. Rinderknecht's
pleasant rooms, which I am to share with Mr. Kaestner, who is on his
way to Nain to take part in our conference there. Mr. and Mrs. Martin
are occupying the spare room below us, and the Lundbergs have also
turned out to make room for Mr. and Mrs. Dam. Where our hosts have
taken up their abode meanwhile remains a riddle for the present. (The
riddle was solved in a subsequent tour of inspection of the house,
when I found that the one resident couple had retired to the garret
and the other to a workshop on the ground floor.)