THE LAPLANDER.
This Laplander looks as if he were sitting for his photograph, though I don’t expect photographers ever go to such a cold country as his. Lapland, you know, is in the northern part of Russia, and the people there dress in furs and skins all the time.
To go swiftly over the snow, they wear big shoes like the one the man is holding. These are strapped on the feet, and a Lapland boy skims along faster than any of you can skate.
But think of it—he never tasted a peach or a strawberry in his life. In his cold home only a few small trees and bushes grow. There are no fruits or vegetables, and the only food is the flesh of the reindeer, and fish.
The houses are round huts, with a hole at the top to let the smoke out.
The Laplander’s fortune is in his reindeer, and his only business, the care of large herds of them. A little Lapland baby lies in a cradle made of wood hollowed out and filled with white moss. Pieces of leather are laced across the top, and the mother fastens the cradle to her back when she travels.
Lazy little people who don’t like school, should go to Lapland, for there, if a boy knows his A, B, C, he is thought very learned.
THE LAPLANDER.
THE LAPLANDER.
THE LAPLANDER.