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Updated: June 27, 2025
Now you can see that, with two such brisk little dogs as the brown puppies harnessed to the sled, Agoonack must keep her seat firmly, that she may not roll over into the snow and let the dogs run away with it.
You will laugh when I tell you that it is not an oven, but a house; and here lives little Agoonack. Do you see that low opening, close to the ground? That is the door; but one must creep on hands and knees to enter. There is another smaller hole above the door: it is the window.
It was the same kind Father again who made them for you, and made the camels and goats for Gemila and Jeannette; who made also the wild bees, and taught them to store their honey in the trees, for Manenko; who made the white rice grow and ripen for little Pen-se, and the sea-birds and the seals for Agoonack.
Do you love her? Do you think you would know her if you should meet her some day? A funny little brown sister. Are all of them brown? We will see, for here comes Agoonack and her sledge. What is this odd-looking mound of stone?
It is Sipsu, the baby brother of Agoonack, a round little boy, who rides sometimes, when the weather is not too cold, in the hood of his mother's jumper, hanging at her back, and peering out from his warm nestling-place over the long icy plain to watch for his father's return from the bear-hunt. When the men come home dragging the great Nannook, as they call the bear, there is a merry feast.
Next she wears leggings, or trousers, of white bear-skin, very rough and shaggy, and a little jacket or frock, called a jumper, of the same. This jumper has a hood, made like the little red riding-hoods which I dare say you have all seen. Pull the hood up over the short, black hair, letting it almost hide the fat, round face, and you have Agoonack dressed. Is this her best dress, do you think?
To every one good food to eat and more than that; for must it not be a very loving father who has made for us all the beautiful sky, and the stars at night, and the blue sea; who sent the soft wind to rock the brown baby to sleep and sing her a song, and the grand march of the Northern Lights for Agoonack grander and more beautiful than any of the fireworks you know; the red strawberries for little Jeannette to gather, and the beautiful chestnut woods on the mountain-side?
Then you will know her for the little sister who has perhaps come closest to your heart, and you will clasp each other's hands in true affection. Here, dear children, are your seven little sisters. Let us count them over. First came the brown baby, then Agoonack, Gemila, Jeannette, Pen-se, Manenko, and Louise.
So they have rested in our imagination and affection as we have seen them grow into the imagination and affection of generations of children since, and as they will continue to grow until the old limitations and barrenness of the study of geography shall be transfigured, and the earth seem to the children an Eden which love has girdled, when Gemila, Agoonack, and the others shall have won them to a knowledge of the brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of God.
Little Agoonack comes from her play to crouch among the rocky ledges and listen to the stories. She has no books; and, if she had, she couldn't read them. Neither could her father or mother read to her: their stories are told and sung, but never written.
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