162 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
little complimentary observations in Latin; but I can¬ 
not say that I found that language lend itself readily 
to the gallantries of the ball-room. After supper dancing 
recommenced, and the hilarity of the evening reached 
its highest pitch when half a dozen sailors, dressed in 
turbans made of flags (one of them, a lady with the 
face of the tragic muse), came forward and danced the 
cancan, with a gravity and decorum that would have 
greatly edified what Gavarni calls u la pudeur muni¬ 
cipals 
At 3 o’clock A.M. I returned on board the schooner, 
and we are all now very busy in making final pre¬ 
parations for departure. Fitz is rearranging his 
apothecary's shop. Sigurdr is writing letters. The 
last strains of music have ceased on board the 
“ Artemise; ” the sun is already high in the hea¬ 
vens ; the flower-beds are returning on shore,—a little 
draggled, perhaps, as if just pelted by a thunder¬ 
storm; the “Heine Hortense ” has got her steam up, and 
the real, serious part of our voyage is about to begin. 
I feel that my description has not half done justice 
to the wonders of this interesting Island; but I can 
refer you to your friend Sir Henry Holland for further 
