So SIDE-LIGHTS ON THE PEARY EXPEDITION 



died in the misery of Cape Sabine's shores, while others escaped 

 death only by a mere hairbreadth. 



One thing they found was an empty trunk with the name David 

 L. Brainard on the cover. This MacMillan dragged out of the hut 

 and used to protect himself while taking observations. 



Then in carefully written pages they found General Greely's 

 report of the food caches he had made throughout the vicinity of 

 Lady Franklin Sound. It was all very methodically and carefully 

 entered, an ironical testimony to the fruitlessness of man's precau- 

 tions in the desolate ice waste. 



In a chest they found General Greeley's dress uniform, brass 

 buttons and gilt epaulets untarnished and the navy cloth unfretted 

 by moths, the coat being in so good a state of preservation that he 

 wore it. The dress uniforms that other men had carried north with 

 them in their vanity reposed in other chests. There were also cuff 

 links, scarf pins and the whatnots of a man's toilet. 



Over in one corner was a school text-book, evidently a boy's 

 book, which had seen much use. In a boyish hand on one flyleaf 

 were written some words, and as McMillan now held the page open 

 the correspondents copied: 



"Lieutenant Fred Kislingbury. 



"To my dear father from his affectionate son: May God be 

 with you and return you safely to us. 



"HARRY KISLINGBURY." 



Lieutenant Fred Kislingbury was one of the seventeen men 

 who slowly starved to death at Cape Sabine. His body lay there 

 under a cairn of rocks and the snow for many years. More recently 

 it was brought home to his native city of Rochester, N. Y. 



On an opposite leaf were the names of several students, evi- 

 dently at Assumption College, Sandwich, Ontario, and the address 

 presumably of Harry Kislingbury, which was Fort Custer, Mon- 

 tana. 



