l^HE NEW YEAR, 1895 77 



I take a stroll every morning, greeting the dawning clay, 

 before I go clown into the hold to my work at the snow- 

 shoes and equipment. My mind is filled with a peculiar 

 sensation, which I cannot clearly define ; there is certainly 

 an exulting feeling of triumph, deep in the soul, a feeling 

 that all one's dreams are about to be realized with the 

 rising sun, which steers northward across the ice-bound 

 waters. But while I am busy in these familiar surround- 

 ings a wave of sadness sometimes comes over me ; it is 

 like bidding farewell to a clear friend and to a home 

 which has long afforded me a sheltering roof. At one 

 blow all this and my dear comrades are to be left behind 

 forever; never again shall I tread this snow -clad deck, 

 never again creep under this tent, never hear the laugh- 

 ter rino- in this familiar saloon, never as^ain sit in this 

 friendly circle. 



" And then I remember that when the Fram at last 

 bursts from her bonds of ice, and turns her prow tow- 

 ards Norway, I shall not be with her. A farewell im- 

 parts to everything in life its own tinge of sadness, like 

 the crimson rays of the sun, when the day, good or bad, 

 sinks in tears below the horizon. 



" Hundreds of times my eye wanders to the map 

 hanging there on the wall, and each time a chill creeps 

 over me. The distance before us seems so long, and the 

 obstacles in our path may be many; but then again the 

 feeling comes that we are bound to pull through : it 

 cannot be otherwise; everything is too carefully prepared 



