492 Chapter VIII. 



"This evening it has begun to blow from the north, 

 but probably this does not mean much ; I must hope so, 

 at all events, and trust that we shall soon get a south 

 wind again. But it is not the mild zephyr we yearn for, 

 not the breath of the blushing dawn. No, a cold, biting 

 south wind, roaring with all the force of the Polar Sea, 

 so that the Fram< the two-year-old Fram, may be buried 

 in the snowstorm, and all around her be but a reeking 

 frost it is this we are waiting for, this that will drift us 

 onwards to our goal. To-day, then, Fram, thou art two 

 years old. I said at the dinner-table that if a year ago 

 we were unanimous in believing that the Fram was a 

 good ship, we had much better grounds for that belief 

 to-day, for safely and surely she is carrying us onwards, 

 even if the speed be not excessive ; and so we drank the 

 Frams good health and good progress. I did not say too 

 much. Had I said all that was in my heart, my words would 

 not have been so measured ; for, to say the truth, we all 

 of us dearly love the ship, as much as it is possible to 

 love any impersonal thing. And why should we not love 

 her ? No mother can give her young more warmth and 

 safety under her wings than she affords to us. She is 

 indeed like a home to us. We all rejoice to return to her 

 from out on the icy plains, and when I have been far 

 away and have seen her masts rising over the everlasting 

 mantle of snow, how often has my heart glowed with 

 warmth towards her. To the builder of this home 

 grateful thoughts often travel during- the still nigfhts. 



