304 FARTHES2' NORTH 



certainly is not; but the day is fine. It is so warm that 

 we are quite hot lying here inside the tent. Through 

 the open door we can see out over the ice where the 

 sun is glittering through white sailing cirrus clouds on 

 the dazzling whiteness. And then there is a Sunday 

 calm, with a faint breeze mostly from the southeast, 1 

 think. Ah me! it is lovely at home to-day, I am sure, 

 with everything in bloom and the fjord quivering in the 

 sunlight; and you are sitting out on the point with Liv, 

 perhaps, or are on the water in your boat. And then 

 one's eye wanders out through the door again, and I am 

 reminded there is many an ice-iioe between now and 

 then, before the time when I shall see it all again. 



" Here we lie far up in the north ; two grim, black, 

 soot-stained barbarians, stirring a mess of soup in a 

 kettle and surrounded on all sides by ice ; by ice and 

 nothing else — shining and white, possessed of all the 

 purity we ourselves lack. Alas, it is all too pure ! One's 

 eye searched to the very horizon for a dark spot to rest 

 on, but in vain. When will it really come to pass ^. 

 Now we have waited for it two months. All the birds 

 seemed to have disappeared to-day ; not even a cheery 

 little auk to be seen. They were here until yesterday, 

 and we have heard them flying north and south, probably 

 to and from land, where they have gone, I suppose, now 

 that there is so little water about in these parts. If only 

 we could move as easily as they ! 



"Wednesday, July 3d. Why write again .^ What 



