dry garments, and spread a skin on the floor for them to sit and sleep on. The tent was soon crowded with people, who frequently asked them if they were not afraid? "We do not know what you intend," answered they, "but you are our friends, and friends are not afraid of each other." "We are good Karalits," was the universal rejoinder, "and now we see you are not Kablunat, but Innuits, and our friends; for you come to see us without weapons, we will do you no harm." The Esquimaux then gave the brethren fish, water and some bread they had got from the sailors, and in about half an hour prepared for rest, Segulliak kindly covering them with two other skins. The conjurer himself did not, however, appear inclined for repose: falling into an ecstacy he first sung with his wives, then muttered some unintelligible jargon, made strange gestures, blew and foamed at the mouth, twisted his limbs and body together as if convulsed, throwing himself into every possible posture; and at intervals emitting the most frightful shrieks, then again he held his hand on Drachart's face, who was next him, and concluded the first act of his demoniacal pantomime by groaning out, "Now is my Torngak come!" Observing Drachart, who was awake, appear startled when he came near him, as often as he laid his hand on his face he kissed him. He then lay still for a while as if dead--after a little began to moan, and at last raised himself up, and requested that they would kiss him, as that gave him some relief, after which he sat down and began to sing. The brethren told him they would sing something better, and accordingly sung some Greenland hymns--to these the Esquimaux were very attentive, and repeated every word, observing, "We know only a little of what you say."