iculty in preventing Alma from amusing
the assembled company with her mandolin solo, "Johnny Get Your Hair
Cut," the young lady's red lips growing quite prominent while she
insists upon playing it.

"Good music is always acceptable, Ricka, and on Sunday as well as on any
other day, so I cannot see why you will not let me play as I want to. I
do not think it a sin to play on the mandolin on Sunday. Do you, Pastor
F.?" asked Alma of the preacher, appealingly, and in all innocence.

What could he say to her? He laughed.

"O, no," said Ricka, "I do not say that mandolin music is sinful on
Sunday, and if you would play 'Nearer My God to Thee,' or some such
piece, and not play 'Johnny,' I should not object." And she now looked
at the preacher and me for reinforcements.

Alma is not, however, easily put down, and the contest usually winds up
with Ricka going into the kitchen where she cannot hear the silly
strains of "Johnny," which Alma is picking abstractedly from the strings
of the instrument, while the preacher continues his reading, and I go
off to my room.

Mr. Q., a Swedish missionary, and his native preacher called Rock, have
arrived from Unalaklik, with the two visiting preachers at the Home, and
they held an evening service in the schoolhouse, which was fairly well
attended. There were seven white men, the three women in this house and
myself, besides many natives of both sexes. Grandmother was there with
Alice, Ageetuk and others, and the missionary spoke well and feelingly
in English, interpreted by Rock into Eskimo. One of the preachers sang a
solo, and presided at the organ. Some of the native women present had
with them their babies, and these, away from home in the evening,
contrary to their usual habit, cried and nestled around a good deal, and
had to be comforted in various ways, both substantial and otherwise,
during the evening; but the speakers were accustomed to all that, and
were thankful to have as listeners the poor mothers, who probably could
not have come without the youngsters.

Considerable will power and auto-suggestion is needed to enable me to
endure the fumes of seal oil along with other smells which are
constantly arising from the furs and bodies of the Eskimos, made damp,
perhaps, by the snow which has lodged upon them before entering the
room. Fire we must have. Those who are continually with the natives in
these gatherings do get "acclimated," but I am having a hard struggle
along th