322 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
cut up into a supply of fresh meat for many days. One 
of the hands happened to he a butcher. Whenever I 
wanted anything—a little out of the way—to be done 
on board, I was sure to find that it happened to be the 
specialite of some one of the ship’s company. In the 
course of a few hours, the late bear was converted into 
a row of the most tempting morsels of beef, hung about 
the rigging. Instead of in flags, the ship was dressed 
in joints. In the meantime it so happened, that the fox 
—having stolen a piece of offal—was in a few minutes 
afterwards seized with convulsions. I had already 
given orders that the bear’s liver should be thrown 
overboard, as being—if not poisonous—at all events 
very unwholesome. The seizure of the fox, coupled 
with this injunction, brought about a complete revolu¬ 
tion in the men’s minds, with regard to the delicacies 
they had been so daintily preparing for themselves. 
Silently, one by one, the pieces were untied and thrown 
into the sea: I do not think a mouthful of bear was 
eaten on board the “Foam.” I never heard whether 
it was in consequence of any prognostics of Wilson’s 
that this act of self-denial was put into practice. I 
observed, however, that for some days after the slaughter 
