456 



FARTHEST NORTH 



mals up there in the ice. No, I can't bear to think 

 of it. 



"Saturday, February ist. Here I am down with the 

 rheumatism. Outside it is growing gradually lighter 

 day by day ; the sky above the glaciers in the south 

 grows redder, until at last one day the sun will rise 

 above the crest, and our last winter night be past. 



*' LIFE IN OUR HUT " 



Spring is coming ! I have often thought spring sad. 

 Was it because it vanished so quickly, because it carried 

 promises that summer never fulfilled.? But there is no 

 sadness in this spring; its promises will be kept; it 

 would be too cruel if they were not." 



It was a strange existence, lying thus in a hut under- 

 ground the whole winter through, without a thing to 



