36 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
pitching about in the seething foam like the stocks in 
Fiskum Foss. I wish I could have done these subjects 
justice in paint. Perhaps in the future, in the quiet of a 
studio at home, I may try to recall some of the dreary 
turmoil and the cold feelingless glitter of sea and sky, 
and frame it with a gold frame, and have it hung in 
some man's dining-room ; it would make the room feel 
calm and comfortable by contrast. But all otYe could do 
at the time was to make small jottings, and then hold on 
when the seas came over. Water colours were out of the 
question ; even pochades in oil, with salt water pouring 
over, were difficult. 
