and when he heard she was no more, he went and hid himself, that he might mourn without restraint. When I sought him out, I found he was giving way to almost uncontrollable grief, his eyes streaming with tears, and his lamentations loud and painful to hear. I tried to comfort him, and by soothing words direct his thoughts upward, where the best consolation is ever found.
At this time a very serious event occurred, the narrative of which I here transcribe from my diary:—
"Sunday, March 17th, 1861, 11 o'clock, night.
"A man lost! The man found—dead!! frozen to death!!!
"I am too fatigued, my mind too overwhelmed with the dreadful incidents of the day, to make record of what belongs to this day's journal. I leave all for the morrow, after having said,
"Peace to the soul of John Brown, one of the men of the George Henry!"
"Monday, March 18th, 1861.
"I now resume the painful record of the subject fore-shadowed in the few words of my last night's penning.
"Turning back to the record of last Tuesday (I refer to my MS. journal book), it will be seen that two of the George Henry's men, John Brown (who now sleeps in death) and James Bruce, both afflicted with scurvy, were sent to Oopungnewing, in Frobisher Bay, distant by sledge-route seventeen nautical miles, for the purpose of having them stay with the Innuits for awhile, living exclusively on fresh meat, walrus and seal. They accompanied, as there stated, the Innuit 'Bob' (King-wat-che-ung), with whom Captain B made distinct arrangements to care for them, providing for all their necessities. This Innuit Bob has a noble soul, one that prompts him to noble deeds, continually outpouring in behalf of the poor, the friendless, the unfortunate, and the sick. He is the one to whom Captain B feels himself indebted for saving his life in the disastrous winter here of 1855-6, when he (Captain B) lost thirteen of the crew of his vessel—the Georgiana—by scurvy.
