74 
THE MIDDLE ICE. 
from the warm regions of the equator, soon reduces 
the winter pack into straggling fields of diminished 
thickness and integrity. These, uniting again by 
their cohesive tendencies, form an irregularly lenticu- 
lar raft, which occupies the central portions of the hay, 
and is called the “ middle” ice, to distinguish it from 
the great pack of winter. 
This, then, is the summer remnant of the winter 
growth — a patch- work composed of all sorts of ice, di- 
versified in pattern, age, and condition, and varying 
in size from small fragments, called “ skreed,” to 
“ floes” or fields, so limited that the eye defines theii 
extent. The floes may he said to form the basis of 
the pack. Their thickness ranges from a few inches 
to many feet, and their diameter is often many miles. 
I can not attempt to describe the uniform dreariness 
of their water-sodden marshes and long snow-covered 
platforms, without a point to mark “ the level waste, 
the rounding gray.” This sameness, however, is not 
always so absolute ; for, at the margins of the floes, 
where their ragged edges have come into grinding 
contact, the ice is piled up into ridges, that streak the 
surface like the mounds of a recently-ditched meadow. 
These are the “ hummocks.” 
The near effect of the ice and water, where they 
come together is not without beauty of its own. The 
water is itself of an inky darkness, a quality seemingly 
independent of mere contrast. It is rarely even ruf- 
fled by the wind ; and its placid surface reflects the 
marginal ice, with its submerged tongues, in mirror- 
like accuracy. 
This ice is the great bugbear of Baffin’s Bay navi- 
gation : yet I can not help thinking that somewhat 
too much stress is laid by the English navigators upon 
