d at the temporary abode of the tribe to
which Kajo belonged. By that time the Eskimo was thoroughly sober, but
the same could not be said of all his people--of whom there were upwards
of a hundred men, besides women and children. It was found that a
chance trader to Godhaab had brought a considerable quantity of rum, and
the families of which we now speak had secured several kegs.

All of these Eskimos were well acquainted with Egede, and a few of them
were friendly towards him; but many were the reverse. There was great
excitement among them at the time the party arrived--excitement that
could scarcely be accounted for either by the rum or by the unexpected
arrival.

Egede soon found out what it was. A terrible murder had been committed
the night before by one of the Eskimos, who was considered not only the
best hunter of the band to which he belonged, but one of the best
husbands and fathers. His name was Mangek. He was one of those who had
been well disposed towards the missionary, and in regard to whom much
hope had been entertained. But he had been treated to rum by the
traders, and having conceived an ardent desire for more, had managed to
obtain a keg of the mad water. Although kind and amiable by nature, his
temperament was sanguine and his nerves sensitively strung. A very
little of the rum excited him to extravagant exuberance of spirit, and a
large dose made him temporarily insane.

It was during one of these fits of insanity that Mangek had on the
previous night struck his wife, when she was trying to soothe him. The
blow would not in itself have killed her, but as she fell her head
struck on a stone, her skull was fractured, and she died in a few
minutes.

Indifferent to--indeed, ignorant of--what he had done, the Eskimo sat
beside the corpse all that night drinking. No one dared to go near him,
until he fell back helplessly drunk. Then they removed the body of his
wife.

It was bad enough to see this hitherto respected man mad with drink, but
it was ten times worse to see him next day mad with horror at what he
had done. For it was not merely that his wife was dead, but that,
although he had loved that wife with all his heart and soul, he had
killed her with his own hand. The wretched man had rushed about the
place shrieking all the morning, sometimes with horror and sometimes
with fury, until he was physically exhausted. Every one had kept
carefully out of his way. When our travelle