2i 4 SPITSBERGEN chap, xv 



soft, damp air, the same fickleness and unreliability, the same 

 occasional perfection. In future I shall always think of 

 England as belonging in a climatic sense to the polar regions. 

 The Arctic Circle ought to be drawn through the Straits of 

 Dover. The contrast between London and Paris weather 

 is the contrast between the Arctic and temperate regions. 

 Our fogs and winds and changeful damps belong to the pole. 

 Our green lawns are but more refined Spitsbergen bogs. One 

 has to come to these islands of the north to understand 

 not merely the geological history, but the present atmos- 

 pheric conditions of the British Isles. 



Gregory and I were on the point of sallying forth to seek 

 fossils and adventures, when a reindeer came down from 

 Flower Valley, and put us in the way of a temptation to 

 which we promptly yielded. It was not any sporting 

 enthusiasm that awoke in us, but sheer greediness, the 

 desire for a change of diet, for fresh meat to get our teeth 

 into. The lot fell upon Gregory, and off he went for a stalk, 

 the details of which were hidden from me by a fold of ground. 

 It suffices to say that the beast was persuaded into the pot. 

 May I never have a more toilsome job than the carrying 

 him between us to camp, for he was a lusty buck. Whilst 

 Gregory skinned him and cut him up, I went for a belated 

 walk along the shore, keeping to the loose and deeply 

 furrowed hill-sides, for the tide was high, and washed the 

 little precipice at their foot. 



It was a toilsome promenade, but not dull, for there was 

 always the beautiful loch on my right, with the fair hills 

 beyond, a harmony in silver and blue. About three miles 

 along, the hills ended, and De Geer Valley debouched on a 

 wide, far-extending delta, low and damp, with many streams 

 and pools. Here was another of De Geer's camps, and 

 several of his signals about, among them our quondam 

 deceiver. The valley rose by a sudden step over a wall 



