The Eskimo are aware that in some respects European customs differ from their own, and when entertaining a white man his peculiarities are rigidly respected. The Eskimo standard of morals is not that of the European. It may be that in this matter of the temporary wife, as in the annual exchange of wives during the Sedna festivities, nature is making her own instinctive provision for the continuation of a race; otherwise so heavily handicapped are they by arctic conditions of life generally that without it wedlock would scarcely suffice for the purpose. The Eskimo despite customs which look like promiscuity according to the standards of civilisation, are not afflicted with the diseases associated with European vice—until they come in contact with unscrupulous whites. Either the germs of these scourges have not made their appearance in the Eskimo communities, or the people are particularly resistive to them. That this latter supposition is not borne out is evidenced by the havoc that has been wrought among the tribes in the past. The Eskimo, when left to themselves, are a moral people according to their own ideas, and the rude health they keep despite these strange customs, seems to vindicate them from an unthinking criticism. If he can, the wayfarer makes suitable offerings in return, but they are not necessarily expected. He drops in on the family overnight, just perhaps when the hunter has returned with a good fat seal, and the jolly distribution of it all round is going on. There is a broad smile on the face of the housewife as she picks out the best bits for her friends and leaves the scraggy remnants for those of whom she cannot profess to be so fond. The children rush hither and thither, willing servitors of those who cannot come themselves. The blood is carefully scooped into an ice bowl for future stew or for the glazing of sled runners. At the hospitable shout, “Kileritse! Kileritse!”—“Come ye! Come ye!”—everyone, friend and stranger alike, crowds into the house and squats on the bench or the floor, or in the porch, and is duly served out with his share. Nothing is heard for awhile but the crunch of strong ivory teeth; the red blood stains hands and faces; black eyes glisten with enjoyment. Then, after a time, the hum and clatter of talk rises to the smoky roof. Everything is devoured, even the entrails (squeezed through the fingers to flatten and empty them). Reindeer moss, taken from the stomach of a deer may be served up as well by way of that greatest possible luxury—a salad! Finally, everyone goes to bed. The doorway is blocked up, blankets are unrolled, and men and women and children, stripped to the skin, wrap themselves up in these and lie down with their heads towards the lamps and their feet towards the back of the snow house, and sleep the sleep of health and good humour and repletion until the break of another arctic winter “day.”