MIDNIGHT SUNSHINE. 
37 
drifts by on each side, leaving a wake of black water 
for a mile behind us. 
“Our position last night, by midnight altitude of the 
sun, gave us 75° 27'; to-day at noon, with a more re¬ 
liable horizon, we made 75° 37'; showing that, in spite 
of all embarrassments, we still move to the north. We 
are, however, nearer than I could wish to the land,—a 
blank wall of glacier. 
“About 10 p.m. the immediate danger was past; and, 
espying a lead to the northeast, we got under weigh, 
and pushed over in spite of the drifting trash. The 
men worked with a will, and we bored through the 
floes in excellent style.” 
On our road we were favored with a gorgeous spec¬ 
tacle, which hardly any excitement of peril could have 
made us overlook. The midnight sun came out over 
the northern crest of the great berg, our late “fast 
friend,” kindling variously-colored fires on every part 
of its surface, and making the ice around us one great 
resplendency of gemwork, blazing carbuncles, and rubies 
and molten gold. 
