THE air was clear again. Several evenings had passed, and the Moon was in the first quarter. Again he gave me an outline for a sketch¹. Listen to what he told me.

“I have followed the polar bird and the swimming whale to the eastern coast of Greenland. Gaunt ice-covered rocks and dark clouds hung over a valley, where dwarf² willows³ and barberry bushes stood clothed in green. The blooming lychnis exhaled⁴ sweet odours. My light was faint, my face pale as the water lily that, torn from its stem, has been drifting for weeks with the tide. The crown-shaped Northern Light burned fiercely in the sky. Its ring was broad, and from its circumference⁵ the rays shot like whirling shafts⁶ of fire across the whole sky, flashing in changing radiance from green to red. The inhabitants of that icy region were assembling for dance and festivity; but, accustomed to this glorious spectacle, they scarcely deigned⁷ to glance at it. ‘Let us leave the soul of the dead to their ball-play with the heads of the walruses,’ they thought in their superstition⁹, and they turned their whole attention to the song and dance. In the midst of the circle, and divested¹⁰ of his furry¹¹ cloak, stood a Greenlander, with a small pipe, and he played and sang a song about catching¹² the seal, and the chorus around chimed in with, ‘Eia, Eia, Ah.’ And in their white furs they danced about in the circle, till you might fancy it was a polar bear’s ball.

“And now a Court of Judgment¹³ was opened. Those Greenlanders who had quarrelled stepped forward, and the offended person chanted forth¹⁴ the faults of his adversary¹⁵ in an extempore song, turning them sharply into ridicule¹⁶, to the sound of the pipe and the measure of the dance. The defendant¹⁷ replied with satire¹⁸ as keen, while the audience laughed, and gave their verdict. The rocks heaved, the glaciers¹⁹ melted, and great masses of ice and snow came crashing down, shivering to fragments as they fall; it was a glorious Greenland summer night. A hundred paces away, under the open tent of hides, lay a sick man. Life still flowed through his warm blood, but still he was to die—he himself felt it, and all who stood round him knew it also; therefore his wife was already sewing round him the shroud²⁰ of furs, that she might not afterwards be obliged to touch the dead body. And she asked, ‘Wilt²¹ thou be buried on the rock, in the firm snow? I will deck the spot with thy kayak, and thy arrows, and the angekokk shall dance over it. Or wouldst thou rather be buried in the sea?’ ‘In the sea,’ he whispered, and nodded with a mournful smile. ‘Yes, it is a pleasant summer tent, the sea,’ observed the wife. ‘Thousands of seals sport there, the walrus⁸ shall lie at thy feet, and the hunt will be safe and merry!’ And the yelling children tore the outspread hide from the window-hole, that the dead man might be carried to the ocean, the billowy ocean, that had given him food in life, and that now, in death, was to afford him a place of rest. For his monument, he had the floating, ever-changing icebergs²², whereon the seal sleeps, while the storm bird flies round their gleaming summits!”