"My party made a hearty breakfast on the 26th, and I observed they did not scruple to lay the vessel containing the meat on the dead child, which I had wrapped in a blanket; and this unnatural table excited neither disgust nor any other feeling among them more than a block of wood could have done. We now tied up all the dogs, as Takkeelikkeeta had desired, and took the child about a quarter of a mile astern of the ships, to bury it in the snow; for the father assured me that her mother would cry in her grave if any weight of stones or earth pressed on her infant. She herself, he feared, had already felt pain from the monument of stones which we had laid upon her. The snow in which we dug the child's grave was not above a foot deep, yet we were not allowed to cut into the ice, or even use any slabs of it in constructing the little tomb. The body, wrapped in a blanket, and having the face uncovered, being placed, the father put the slings by which its deceased mother had carried it on the right side, and, in compliance with the Esquimaux custom of burying toys and presents with their dead, I threw in some beads. A few loose slabs of snow were now placed so as to cover, without touching, the body, and with this very slight sepulchre the father was contented, although a fox could have dug through it in half a minute. We, however, added more snow, and cemented all by pouring about twenty buckets of water, which were brought from the ship, on every part of the mound. I remarked that, before our task was completed, the man turned and walked quietly to the ships.