At length we round the last cape, and enter Zoar Bay. Presently we come in sight of the station buildings between the fir-clad slope and the shore. There is the store, now the mission-house and church appear from behind yonder rock. The Eskimoes are firing their shots of welcome, answered by rockets from the ship. Thank God, the station flag is flying at the mast-head! That tells us that neither illness nor accident have been permitted to carry off any of the missionaries. Look behind you. The hills are glowing with a glorious "Alpengluehen"--an evening effect as splendid as it is surprising. Now we are nearer. They are launching the "Emily," the station boat. Rowed by natives, she comes alongside almost as soon as our anchor is down, and all the resident missionaries climb on board, followed by a number of Eskimoes. Soon our hosts carry us off to the hospitable little mission-house, which somehow or another manages to find comfortable quarters for all the visitors. I am writing up my diary in Mr. and Mrs. Rinderknecht's pleasant rooms, which I am to share with Mr. Kaestner, who is on his way to Nain to take part in our conference there. Mr. and Mrs. Martin are occupying the spare room below us, and the Lundbergs have also turned out to make room for Mr. and Mrs. Dam. Where our hosts have taken up their abode meanwhile remains a riddle for the present. (The riddle was solved in a subsequent tour of inspection of the house, when I found that the one resident couple had retired to the garret and the other to a workshop on the ground floor.) ZOAR. In its summer aspect this is a singularly lovely place. Yet, I see each station at its best, and can only guess at the changes which snow and ice will work in the landscape. Were this spot in Europe, it would soon be a favourite summer resort. Being in Labrador, however, the summer visitors would speedily fly from the swarms of mosquitoes and sand-flies. These appear as soon as the weather is at all warm and are a veritable plague in the summer evenings, which would else be so enjoyable. And when these myriad tormentors with wings and stings are gone, rude winter cuts short the autumn. As usual in Labrador, the little mission-station lies on the north side of the bay, so that the wooded hill behind shields it from the northern blasts. This fir-clad slope makes Zoar much more friendly in appearance than any other station. Hopedale is bare and treeless in its general aspect and so in less degree are Nain and Okak, though all three have fir-trees in their neighbourhood. Ramah and Hebron are beyond the limit of even these hardy evergreens, and the latter looks very bleak and rocky. Pleasing as is the first impression of Zoar, the conviction soon grows upon one that the site has its serious disadvantages. First and foremost among these is the fact that it is not favourable to success in sealing and fishing, so that it is not easy for the inhabitants to make a livelihood.