Along the Labrador Coast from Battle Harbor to Nain, tiny settlements lie huddled at the foot of towering, rocky cliffs. Several weatherbeaten shacks, a pier or two, boats and nets hung up to dry, comprise the weary picture. Almost no motion is apparent. Everywhere are rocks and mosquitoes and marshes extending as far as the eye can see. And smothering the scene like a heavy blanket is the smell of drying and decaying fish. For it is summer and the people who cling precariously to the shoreline are codfishing for existence.

Forty years ago a young English doctor sailed his ketch along this same coast, and was so moved by the abject poverty of the inhabitants that he decided to devote his life to the betterment of their lot. Today hospitals and schools, missions and orphanages stand as tribute to the energy of one man, this doctor, whose name has become synonymous with Labrador. In the widest possible sense he has educated the people not to suffer on the barest edge of the land but to develop the resources--timber and minerals--which lie inland.

This English doctor, now old and weary, still has the soul of a crusader. Not content with a job well done, he insists on pushing ahead with a fanatic zeal. Knowledge of this work has forced upon Vag an irrepressible desire to learn more about it. Partly for this reason, partly in tribute to a great leader, Vag is going to hear Sir Wilfred Grenfell speak this evening at eight o'clock in the large lecture room of the Fogg Museum.