146 K. E. von Burr's description of 



eye ^<> perfect thai no consideration could rid me of it. I am 



also convinced thai it docs not depend upon the want of the 

 accustomed objects alone, but likewise on a peculiar transpa- 

 rency of the air, for it is never so complete on cloudy as on 

 bright da\s ? and not so striking in level as in mountainous 

 n gions. In days or hours which are quite clear the air ap- 

 pears to be almost without colour, and as the heights in sight 

 are partly covered with snow, and constituted in part of a dark 

 stone, which appears darker by the contrast, so the small de- 

 cree of colour which the air may possess cannot be perceived. 

 The mountains therefore apparently advance quite near to the 

 eye, and this perhaps in a greater degree to one who has been 

 accustomed to see hills through a different aerial perspective. 



Another effect of the want of trees and even of a vigorous 

 growth of grass is the sensation of loneliness, which seizes not 

 only on persons of reflection but even upon the roughest 

 sailor. It is by no means a sensation of fear, but rather a so- 

 lemn and elevating one, and can only be compared with the 

 mighty impression which a visit to alpine regions always 

 leaves behind. 



The once-conceived idea that the morning of creation was 

 dawning for the first time, and that life was yet to follow I 

 found it impossible to repress. Nevertheless an animal is now 

 and then seen to stir in Nova Zembla. Sometimes a great sea 

 gull (Larus glaucus) is seen to hover in the air at some di- 

 stance from the coast, or a swift lemming runs along the 

 ground. These however are not sufficient to give life to the 

 landscape. In calm weather a want of sounds and motion 

 is felt, if, as in our case, an expedition be made into the inte- 

 rior, after the departure of the numerous geese which pass 

 their moulting season on the sea shore. Besides, even the 

 few land birds in Nova Zembla are mute, and the insect tribe, 

 proportionally much scantier, is also noiseless. Even the 

 polar fox is only heard at night. This total want of sounds, 

 which especially prevails on serene days, reminds one of the 

 stillness of the grave ; and the lemmings, which coming forth 

 from the earth, glide along in straight lines, and then again 

 quickly vanish into it, appear like spectres. From the little 

 motion one sees, in spite of these signs of animal life, it seems 



