THE TOSSUT-MOSSING. 
355 
canvas carpet. The entrance is to be from the hold, 
by a low moss-lined tunnel, the tossut of the native 
huts, with as many doors and curtains to close it up as 
our ingenuity can devise. This is to be our apartment 
of all uses,—not a very large one; but we are only ten 
to stow away, and the closer the warmer. 
“ September 9, Saturday.—All hands but the car¬ 
penter and Morton are out ‘mossing/ This mossing, 
though it has a very May-day sound, is a frightfully 
wintry operation. The mixed turf of willows, heaths, 
grasses, and moss, is frozen solid. We cannot cut it out 
from the beds of the snow-streams any longer, and are 
obliged to seek for it on the ledges of the rocks, quarry¬ 
ing it with crowbars and carrying it to the ship like 
so much stone. I would escape this labor if I could, 
for our party have all of them more or less scurvy in 
their systems, and the thermometer is often below zero. 
But there is no help for it. I have some eight sledge¬ 
loads more to collect before our little home can be 
called wind-proof: and then, if we only have snow 
enough to bank up against the brigs sides, I shall have 
no fear either for height or uniformity of temperature. 
“September 10, Sunday.—‘The work goes bravely 
on/ We have got moss enough for our roof, and some¬ 
thing to spare for below. To-morrow we begin to strip 
off the outer-deck planking of the brig, and to stack it 
for firewood. It is cold work, hatches open and no 
fires going; but we saved time enough for our Sundays 
exercises, though we forego its rest. 
“It is twelve months to-day since I returned from 
