LAND AT LAST ' 445 



from land to land, from people to people, on which civili- 

 zation is borne \'ictorious through the earth ; next sum- 

 mer it will carr\' us home. 



" Thursday, December 19th. —28.5' (19.3° below zero, 

 Fahr.). It has turned cold again, and is bitter weather 

 to be out in. But what does it signify .f* We are com- 

 fortable and warm in here, and do not need to go out 

 more than we like. All the out-of-door work we ha\'e is 

 to bring in fresh and salt water ice two or three times a 

 week, meat and blubber now and again, and \'ery occa- 

 sionally a skin to dry under the roof. And Christmas, 

 the season of rejoicing, is drawing near. At home, every 

 one is busy now, scarcely knowing how to get time for 

 everything; but here there is no bustle; all we want is 

 to make the time pass. Ah, to sleep, sleep ! The pot 

 is simmering pleasantly over the hearth ; I am sitting 

 waiting for breakfast, and gazing into the flickering- 

 flames, while my thoughts travel far away. What is 

 the strange power in fire and light that all created be- 

 ings seek them, from the primary lump of protoplasm 

 in the sea to the roving child of man, who stops in his 

 wanderings, makes up a fire in the wood, and sits down 

 to dismiss all care and revel in the cracklino- warmth. 

 Involuntarily do these snake - like, fiery tongues arrest 

 the eye; you gaze down into them as if you could read 

 your fate there, and memories glide past in motley train. 

 What, then, is privation ? What the present.? Forget it, 

 forget yourself ; you have the power to recall all that is 



