ut the cold gray-red naked rocks, broken and twisted into
knots and knobs, and cut across with deep and ugly cracks. I could but
wonder that on such a dreary spot man should ever think of seeking a
dwelling-place; and my companion must have interpreted my thoughts, for
he pointed to the shore, and said playfully, "Ah! it is true, you behold
at last the fruits of wisdom and instruction,--a city founded on a
rock." And then, after a moment's pause, he added: "Let me point out to
you the great features of this new wonder. First, to the right there,
underneath that little, low, black, peaked roof, dwells the royal
cook,--a Dane who came out here a long time ago, married a native of
the country, and rejoices in a brood of half-breeds, among whom are four
girls, rather dusky, but not ill-favored. Next in order is the
government-house,--that pitch-coated structure near the flag-staff. This
is the only building, you observe, that can boast of a double tier of
windows. Next, a little higher up, you see, is my own lodge, bedaubed
with pitch, like the other, to protect it against the assaults of the
weather, and to stop the little cracks. Down by the beach, a little
farther on, that largest building of all is the store-house, &c., where
the Governor keeps all sorts of traps for trade with the natives, and
where the shops are in which the cooper fixes up the oil-barrels, and
where other like industrial pursuits are carried on. A little farther on
you observe a low structure where the oil is stored. On the ledge above
the shop you see another pitchy building. This furnishes quarters for
the half-dozen Danish employees,--fellows who, not having married native
wives, hunt and fish for the glory of Denmark. Near the den of these
worthies you observe another,--a duplicate of that in which lives the
cook. There lives the royal cooper; and not far from it are two others,
not quite so pretentious, where dwell the carpenter and blacksmith,--all
of whom have followed the worthy example of the cook, and have dusky
sons and daughters to console their declining years. You may perhaps be
able to distinguish a few moss-covered hovels dotted about here and
there,--perhaps there may be twenty of them in all, though there are but
few of them in sight. These are the huts of native hunters. At present
they are not occupied, for, being without roofs that will turn water,
the people are compelled to abandon them when the snow begins to melt in
the spring,