196 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
leagues away on our starboard quarter, faintly swim¬ 
ming through the haze; up overhead blazed the white 
sun, and below glittered the level sea, like a pale blue 
disc netted in silver lace. I seldom remember a brighter 
day; the thermometer was at 72°, and it really felt 
more as if we were crossing the line than entering the 
frigid zone. 
Animated by that joyous inspiration which induces 
them to make a ffite of everything, the French officers, 
it appeared, wished to organize a kind of carnival 
to inaugurate their arrival in Arctic waters, and by 
means of a piece of chalk and a huge black board dis¬ 
played from the hurricane-deck of the “ Heine Hor tense” 
an inquiry was made as to what suggestion I might 
have to offer in furtherance of this laudable object. 
With that poverty of invention and love of spirits which 
characterize my nation, I am obliged to confess that, 
after deep reflection, I was only able to answer, “Grog.” 
But seeing an extra flag or two was being run up at 
each masthead of the Frenchman, the lucky idea 
occurred to me to dress the “ Foam ” in all her colours. 
The schooner’s toilette accomplished, I went on board 
the “ Heine Hor tense” and you cannot imagine any- 
