B. and G. have moved all their things into the house from the schoolroom, and Ricka hung the clothes she has been all day washing out there to dry. There is a small stove in which a fire is often made to dry them more quickly. It is most convenient to have such a place for drying clothes, as it is impossible to get them dry outside on the lines in the frost and snow. We spent the evening pleasantly together in the sitting room, listening to B.'s jokes, and Mary's stories of Nome and the "trail." For our Thanksgiving dinner we had canned turkey, potatoes, tomatoes, pickles, fruit, soup, bread, butter, and coffee, trying hard not to think of our home friends and their roast turkeys and cranberries. However, the dinner was a good one for Alaska, eaten with relish, and all were jolly and very thankful, even M., with his sore collar-bone, laughing with the rest. November thirtieth: Mr. H. came with a man, two natives, seven reindeer and four sleds to take more furniture away. They all ate dinner here, and I took some kodak views of the animals with Alma, Ricka, Mary, G. and a native driver in the sunshine in front of the Mission. Mary goes up to the animals and pets them, as does Ricka, but I keep a good way off from their horns, as they look ugly, and one old deer has lost his antlers, with the exception of one bare, straight one a yard long, which, with an angry beast behind it, would, however, be strong enough to toss a person in mid-air if the creature was so minded. There has been some hitch in the arrangements of the men going to the Koyuk River, and there is a delay, but they will get off some day, because L. never gives up anything he attempts to do, and I like him for that. If more people were like this, they being always certain that they were started in the right direction, the world would be the better for it. December first: Mr. B. is making bunks in two rooms upstairs, as the house is so full all the time. This will give quite a little more lodging room, for cots cannot be provided for all, neither is there room for so many, but with bunks, one above another, it will furnish lodgings for all who come. Our two fisher women went out again this afternoon, and got tom-cod through the ice by the cliff, near the snow-buried river steamers. About four o'clock in the afternoon I called on the captain's wife, and found her sewing furs. For her helper she had her cousin Alice, the coy, plump Eskimo girl, who traveled to San Francisco with her last year. Both women sat upon fur rugs on the floor, as is their custom when sewing, and they were sorting bright beads, and cutting moosehide into moccasins and gauntlet gloves, to be decorated with beads in the fashion of the Yukon River Indians.