306 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
in the black moss at his feet, there lay a grey deal coffin 
falling almost to pieces with age; the lid was gone— 
blown off probably by the wind-—and within were 
stretched the bleaching bones of a human skeleton. A 
rude cross at the head of the grave still stood partially 
upright, and a half obliterated Dutch inscription pre¬ 
served a record of the dead man’s name and age. 
.VANDER SCHELLING .... 
COMMAN .... JACOB MOOR .... 
OB 2 JUNE 1758 MT 44. 
It was evidently some poor whaler of the last 
century, to whom his companions had given the only 
burial possible in this frost-hardened earth, which even 
the summer sun has no force to penetrate beyond a 
couple of inches, and which will not afford to man the 
shallowest grave. A bleak resting-place for that hun¬ 
dred years’ slumber, I thought, as I gazed on the dead 
mariner’s remains!— 
“ I was snowed over with snow 
And beaten with rains 
And drenched with the dews 
Dead have I long been/ 5 — 
