70 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
the cutter to some islands about three-quarters of a mile 
out to sea; and I do not think I shall ever forget the 
delicious sensation of lying down lazily in the stern- 
sheets, and listening to the rippling of the water against 
the bows of the boat, as she glided away towards 
them. The dreamy, misty landscape,—each headland 
silently sleeping in the unearthly light,—Snoefell, from 
"whose far-off peaks the midnight sun, though lost to 
us, had never faded,—the fire-scathed crags that stood 
around, so gaunt and weird,—the quaint fresh life 
I had been lately leading,—all combined to promise 
such an existence of novelty and excitement in that 
strange Arctic region on the threshold of which we 
were now pausing, that I could not sufficiently con¬ 
gratulate myself on our good fortune. Soon, however, 
the grating of our keel upon the strand disturbed my 
reflections, and by the time I had unaccountably 
stepped up to my knees in the water I was thoroughly 
awake, and in a condition to explore the island. It 
seemed to be about three-quarters of a mile long, not 
very broad, and a complete rabbit warren; in fact, I 
could not walk a dozen yards without tripping up 
in the numerous burrows by which the ground was 
