I902] A WEARISOME DAY 365 



The chances are that on the following day the blizzard will 

 not have gone down ; our blizzards usually last for more than 

 twenty-four hours, and therefore next morning one is not 

 surprised to hear the tent flogging away as wildly as ever. 

 Breakfast is deferred for an hour, but man must live, and it 

 is better to keep one's strength up at all times, so at last we all 

 get out of the bag, roll it up carefully, and prepare our meal. 



The meal over, the bag is spread again, and in it we while 

 away the hours as best we can. It is an admirable lesson of 

 patience, since we are absolutely incapable of bettering matters 

 till the clouds roll by. We only allow ourselves two hot meals 

 — a late breakfast, and then supper as darkness is again 

 descending on us. During these meals the bag is rolled up, 

 but lunch, with its scraps of biscuit, cheese, sugar, and 

 chocolate, is eaten inside it ; one keeps all these luxuries in 

 a warm breast pocket and munches away at them at intervals. 



How unutterably wearisome these long daylight hours are ! 

 The smoker looks ruefully at his small stock of tobacco ; to 

 smoke now is to rob the future, but the temptation is great, 

 and he argues that just half a pipe will not make much 

 difference, so he lights up, but in a quarter of an hour finds 

 himself sucking at an empty bowl. The inside of the bag has 

 grown moist where it comes into contact with the body, whilst 

 the ice is still hard in the corners ; the damp has worked 

 through to the skin, and we seem to be swathed in wet 

 bandages. It is horribly cold and clammy, and we think of 

 what joy it would be to be able to walk into our comfortable 

 wardroom, to rub ourselves with a rough towel, don dry 

 clothing, and bask in the rays of the glowing fire. 



Now and again conversation breaks out ; someone tells 

 a droll legend of his infancy ; the tale carries us away to other 

 places and other times for a space, forgetful of our miserable 

 surroundings ; but the effort flickers and dies, and gradually 

 thought creeps back to the present. The small aneroid 

 barometers are consulted again and again ; there has been 

 a slight fall for the gale, not more than two or three tenths of 

 an inch, but we eagerly look for a rise ; occasionally a head is 



