The Winter Night. 261 



r at peace, restless as the very soul of man. I can 

 sit and o-aze and o-aze, mv eves entranced by the 



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dream-glow yonder in the west, where the moon's thin 

 pale, silver-sickle is dipping its point into the blood ; 

 and mv soul is borne bevond the "'low, to the 



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sun, so far off now and to the home-coming ! Our 

 task accomplished, we are making our way up the fjord 

 as tast as sail and steam can carrv us. On both sides of 



J 



us the homeland lies smiling in the sun ; and then 



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the sufferings of a thousand days and hours melt into 



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a moment's inexpressible joy. I T gh ! that was a bitter 

 "gust I jump up and walk on. What am I dreaming 

 about ! so far yet from the goal hundreds and hundreds 

 of miles between us, ice and land and ice again. And 

 we are drifting round and round in a ring, bewildered 

 attaining nothing, only waiting, always waiting, for 

 what ? 



" I dreamt I lay on a grassy bank, 

 And the sun shone warm and clear, 

 I wakened on a desert isle, 

 And the sky was black and drear.'' 



" One more look at the star of home, the one that 

 stood that evening over Cape Chelyuskin, and I creep 

 on board, where the windmill is turning in the cold 

 wind, and the electric light is streaming out from the 

 skylight upon the icy desolation of the Arctic night." 



" Wednesday, November 8th. The storm (which we 

 had had the two previous days) is quite gone clown ; 



