212 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
in the existence of the island—went to bed, while I 
remained pacing up and down the deck, anxiously 
questioning each quarter of the grey canopy that 
enveloped us. At last, about four in the morning, I 
«• 
fancied some change was going to take place; the 
heavy wreaths of vapour seemed to be imperceptibly 
separating, and in a few minutes more the solid 
roof of grey suddenly split asunder, and I beheld 
through the gap—thousands of feet overhead as if 
suspended in the crystal sky—a cone of illuminated 
snow. 
You can imagine my delight. It was really that of 
an anchorite catching a glimpse of the seventh heaven. 
There at last was the long sought for mountain actually 
tumbling down upon our heads. Columbus could not 
have been more pleased when—after nights of watching 
-—he saw the first fires of a new hemisphere dance upon 
the water; nor, indeed, scarcely less disappointed at their 
sudden disappearance than I was, when—after having 
gone below to wake Sigurdr, and tell him we had seen 
bona fide terra-firma, I found, on returning upon deck, 
that the roof of mist had closed again, and shut out 
all trace of the transient vision. However, I had got a 
