We may adopt the remainder of Dr. Hayes’ interesting little episode, because it illustrates the ingrained selfishness, or self-concentration, of the Eskimo character. Hans had deteriorated greatly during his residence with the wild Eskimos, and he had sunk to their level of filthy ugliness. He was accompanied by his wife, who carried her first-born in a hood upon her back; his wife’s brother, a quick-eyed boy of twelve years; and his wife’s mother, “an ancient dame with voluble and flippant tongue.” They were all attired in the usual Eskimo dress of skins; objects of interest and curiosity, but not “things of beauty.” Hans led his visitors, over rough rocks and through deep drifts of snow, to his rude hut, which stood on the cold hill-top, about two hundred feet above the sea-level. An excellent position for a “look-out,” but as inconvenient for a hunter as can well be imagined. Here he had watched and waited for many a dreary month; surveying the sea day after day, in the faint hope of discovering some European vessel. But none came; summer passed into winter, and winter lengthened into summer; and still Hans watched and waited, yearning after his southern home and the friends of his youth. His tent--for it was rather a tent than a hut--was made of seal-skins, and its capacity was scarcely sufficient to accommodate his little family. Dr. Hayes asked him if he would accompany the expedition. “Yes.” Would he take his wife and baby? “Yes.” Would he go without them? “Yes.” This last answer reveals the curious unimpressionableness of the Eskimo, who endures with calmness, nay, even with indifference, those partings which try the heartstrings of the European. It is, perhaps, a result of the constant warfare he maintains against an uncongenial and austere Nature that he comes to regard himself as his first and chief, as almost his only concern. So long as his wife and children surround him, he shows no evident want of affection; but he has no objection to part from them, if the separation will prove to his individual interest. As Dr. Hayes had no leisure to examine critically into the state of his mind, and as he cherished a conviction that the permanent separation of husband and wife was to be regarded as a painful event, he determined on giving the Eskimo mother the benefit of this conventional suspicion. Both husband and wife, therefore, were carried on board the schooner, as well as their baby, their tent, and all their household goods. The bright-eyed boy and the ancient dame cried to accompany them; but Dr. Hayes had no further room, and was compelled to leave them to the care of their tribe, who, about twenty in number, had discovered the schooner, and with a merry shout had come across the hill. After bestowing upon them some useful gifts, Dr. Hayes returned to his vessel.