In a locker on his ship, the _Strathcona_, there were neat little
clothes that thoughtful children in our own country had sent him to
give to the destitute little ones of Labrador. He turned the baby girl
over to his big mate, who had babies of his own at home. The mate
stroked her tangled hair with a brawney hand, and talked baby talk to
her, and as she snuggled close in his fatherly arms, he carried her
below decks. The baby's mother would not have known her little
daughter if, two hours later, she had gone aboard the _Strathcona_ and
heard the peals of laughter and seen the happy little thing, bathed,
dressed in neat clean clothes, and well fed, playing on deck with a
pretty doll that Doctor Grenfell had somewhere found.
It was on his last cruise south late one fall, and not long before
navigation closed, that Doctor Grenfell learned that a family of
liveyeres encamped on one of the coastal islands was in a destitute
condition, without food and practically unsheltered and unclothed.
He went immediately in search, steaming nearly around the island, and
discerning no sign of life he had decided that the people had gone,
when a little curl of smoke rising from the center of the island
caught his eye.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190