THE WINTER NIGHT 269 



But otherwise great joy prevailed ; they leaped, and ran, 

 and rolled themselves in the snow. Brilliant aurora in 

 the evening. 



" Saturday, October 7th. Still cold, with the same 

 northerly wind we have had all these last days. I am 

 afraid we are drifting far south now. A few days ago 

 we were, according to the observations, in ']'^'' 47' north 

 latitude. That was 16' south in less than a week. This 

 is too much ; but we must make it up again ; we mttst get 

 north. It means going away from home now, but soon 

 it will mean going nearer home. What depth of beauty, 

 with an undercurrent of endless sadness, there is in these 

 dreamily glowing evenings ! The vanished sun has left 

 its track of melancholy flame. Nature's music, which 

 fills all space, is instinct with sorrow that all this beauty 

 should be spread out day after day, week after week, 

 year after year, over a dead world. Why ? Sunsets are 

 always sad at home too. This thought makes the sight 

 seem doubly precious here and doubly sad. There is 

 red burning blood in the west against the cold snow — 

 and to think that this is the sea, stiffened in chains, in 

 death, and that the sun will soon leave us, and we shall 

 be in the dark alone ! ' And the earth was without form 

 and void ;' is this the sea that is to come } 



" Sunday, October 8th. Beautiful weather. Made a 

 snow-shoe expedition westward, all the dogs following. 

 The running was a little spoiled by the brine, which 

 soaks up through the snow from the surface of the ice — 



