The Winter Night. 381 



lovely it is there now, in the spring, in the dim, 

 melancholy stillness that reigns among the stately stems. 

 I can feel the damp moss in which my foot sinks softly 

 and noiselessly ; the brook released from the winter 

 bondage is murmuring through the clefts and among the 

 rocks, with its brownish-yellow water ; the air is full of 

 the scent of moss and pine needles, while overhead 

 against the light blue sky, the dark pine tops rock to 

 and fro in the spring breeze, ever uttering their mur- 

 muring wail, and beneath their shelter the soul fearlessly 

 expands its wings and cools itself in the forest dew. 



'' Oh, solemn pine forest, the only confidant of my 

 childhood, it was from you I learned nature's deepest 

 tones, its wildness, its melancholy. You coloured my 

 soul for life. 



" Alone far in the forest beside the glowing embers 

 of my fire on the shore of the silent, murky woodland 

 tarn, with the gloom of night overhead, how happy I 

 used to be in the enjoyment of Nature's harmony. 



"Thursday, March 29th. It is wonderful what a 

 change it makes to have daylight once more in the 

 saloon. On turning out for breakfast and seeing the 

 light gleaming in, one feels that it really is morning. 



" We are busy on board. Sails are being made for the 

 boats and hand-sledges. The windmill, too, is to have 

 fresh sails, so that it can go in any kind of weather. 

 Ah ! if we coulcl but give the Fram wings as well. 

 Knives are being forged, bear spears which \ve never 



