V 
A WALK. 261 
“Now let US start out upon a walk, clothed in well- 
fashioned Arctic costume. The thermometer is, say 
— 25°, not lower, and the wind blowing a royal hreeze, 
but gently. 
“ Close the lips for the first minute or two, and ad- 
mit the air suspiciously through nostril and mustache. 
Presently you breathe in a dry, pungent, hut gracious 
and agreeable atmosphere. The beard, eyebrow, eye- 
lashes, and the downy pubescence of the ears, acquire 
a delicate, white, and perfectly-enveloping cover of 
venerable hoar-frost. The mustache and under lip 
form pendulous beads of dangling ice. Put out your 
tongue, and it instantly freezes to this icy crusting, 
and a rapid effort and some hand aid will he required 
to liberate it. The less you talk, the better. Your 
chin has a trick of freezing to your upper jaw by the 
luting aid of your beard; even my eyes have often 
been so glued, as to show that even a wink may he un- 
safe. As you walk on, you find that the iron- work 
of your gun begins to penetrate through two coats of 
woolen mittens, with a sensation like hot water. 
“But we have been supposing your hack to the 
wind ; and if you are a good Arcticized subject, a warm 
glow has already been followed by a profuse sweat. 
Now turn about and face the wind ; what a devil of 
a change ! how the atmospheres are wafted off! how 
penetratingly the cold trickles down your neck, and 
in at your pockets !. Whew ! a jack-knife, heretofore, 
like Bob Sawyer’s apple, ‘ unpleasantly warm’ in the 
breeches pocket, has changed to something as cold as 
ice and hot as fire : make your way back to the ship ! ! 
I was once caught three miles off with a freshening 
wind, and at one time feared that I would hardly see 
the brig again. Morton, who accompanied me, had 
