112 THE WHALEMAN ; OK, 



There was something profoundly dreadful and 

 awe-inspiring in the giant march of a polar win- 

 ter, prodigious in its increase of snow and the 

 vast accumulation of ice. It was upon a scale 

 of operation so sublime and awful as to baffle 

 all human description, and throw wholly into the 

 shade, as absolutely insignificant, the intensest 

 winter ever experienced in our native country. 

 It is utterly impossible to give to any one who 

 has not shared somewhat in the tremendous real- 

 ity of the scene a just conception of it. 



The sun was now falling rapidly, and showing 

 its bright disk only a few hours above the hori- 

 zon. The nights were very long, and the days 

 were becoming shorter and shorter. " It seemed as 

 if the luminary of day was indisposed to throw 

 abroad his own rays upon a region of the earth's 

 surface where either human or animal life could 

 with so much difficulty exist. In a few weeks, 

 the sun had wholly disappeared, though his' track 

 of light could be distinctly traced in his course 

 below a section of the horizon ; but still it was 

 becoming fainter and fainter, until total dark- 

 ness and a long night of nearly a month envel- 

 oped the outward world, as well as enshrouded 

 our own minds in indescribable gloom and sad- 

 ness. 



Our readers may inquire how we passed our 



