LAND AT LAST 441 



the bear will no longer wander about on the ice out 

 there, when even the wind will not rage — infinite silence ! 

 In the flaming aurora borealis the spirit of space hovers 

 over the frozen waters. The soul bows down before the 

 majesty of night and death. 



" Monday, December 2d. Morning. To-day I can 

 hear it blowing again outside, and we shall have an 

 unpleasant walk. It is bitterly cold now in our worn, 

 greasy clothes. It is not so bad when there is no wind; 

 but even if there is only a little it goes right through 

 one. But what does it matter.^ Will not the spring one 

 day come here too .•' Yes ; and over us arches the same 

 heaven now as always, high and calm as ever; and as 

 we walk up and down here shivering we gaze into the 

 boundless starry space, and all our privations and sorrows 

 shrink into nothingness. Starlit night, thou art sublime- 

 ly beautiful ! But dost thou not lend our spirit too migh- 

 ty wings, greater than we can control t Couldst thou 

 but solve the riddle of existence ! We feel ourselves the 

 centre of the universe, and struggle for life, for immor- 

 tality^one seeking it here, another hereafter — while thy 

 silent splendor proclaims : At the command of the Eter- 

 nal, you came into existence on a paltry planet, as dimin- 

 utive links in the endless chain of transformations ; at 

 another command, you will be wiped out again. Who 

 then, through an eternity of eternities, will remember 

 that there once was an ephemeral being who could bind 

 sound and light in chains, and who was purblind enough 



