I have observed for some days past decided symptoms of a rivalry existing between my two Esquimau hunters, Hans and Peter, both of whom are very serviceable to me. Peter is a very clever little fellow, and withal honest; and he has quite taken my fancy. He is a thorough-bred Esquimau, with very dark complexion, jet-black hair, which he cuts in native fashion, square across his forehead; but he keeps himself clean and neat, and is on all occasions very well behaved. Not only is he a fine hunter, but he possesses great ingenuity, and has wonderful skill with his fingers. I have before me several specimens of his handiwork in the shape of salt-spoons, paper-cutters, and other little trinkets which, with an old file, a knife, and a piece of sand-paper, he has carved for me out of a walrus tusk. They are cut with great accuracy and taste. He is always eager to serve my wishes in every thing; and since I never allow zeal to go unrewarded, he is the richer by several red-flannel shirts, and a suit of pilot-cloth clothes. Of course, Hans is jealous. Indeed, it is impossible for me to exhibit any kindness of this sort to any of my Esquimau people without making Hans unhappy. He avoids showing his temper openly in my presence, but he gets sulky, and does not hunt, or, if ordered out, he comes home without game. He is a type of the worst phase of the Esquimau character. The Esquimaux are indeed a very strange kind of people, and are an interesting study, even more so than my dogs, although they are not so useful; and then the dog can be controlled with a long whip and resolution, while the human animal cannot be controlled with any thing. They might very properly be called a negative people, in every thing except their unreliability, which is entirely positive; and yet among themselves they exhibit the semblance of virtuous conduct, at least in this: that while in sickness or want or distress they never render voluntary assistance to each other, yet they do not deny it; indeed, the active exhibition of service is perhaps wholly unknown or unthought of amongst them; but they do the next best thing--they never withhold it. From the rude hut of the hardy inhabitant of these frozen deserts the unfortunate hunter who has lost his team and has been unsuccessful in the hunt, the unprotected family who have lost their head, even the idle and thriftless, are never turned away; but they are never invited. They may come, they may use what they find as if they were members of the family, taking it as a matter of course; but if it were known that they were starving, at a distance, there is no one who would ever think of going to them with supplies. They are the most self-reliant people in the world. It does not appear ever to occur to them to expect assistance, and they never think of offering it.