88 
THE DESERTER AGAIN. 
“ The moral value of this toilsome month to myself 
has been the lesson of sympathy it has taught me with 
the laboring man. The fatigue and disgust and secret 
trials of the overworked brain are bad enough, but not 
to me more severe than those which follow the sick 
and jaded body to a sleepless bed. I have realized the 
sweat of the brow, and can feel how painful his earn¬ 
ings must be to whom the grasshopper has become a 
burden. 
“April 2, Monday.—At eleven o’clock this morning 
Mr. Bonsall reported a man about a mile from the brig, 
apparently lurking on the ice-foot. I thought it was 
Hans, and we both went forward to meet him. As we 
drew closer we discovered our sledge and dog-team 
near where he stood; but the man turned and ran to 
the south. 
“I pursued him, leaving Mr. Bonsall, who carried a 
Sharpe rifle, behind; and the man, whom I now recog¬ 
nised to be Godfrey, seeing me advance alone, stopped 
and met me. He told me that he had been to the 
south as far as Northumberland Island; that Hans was 
lying sick at Etah, in consequence of exposure; that he 
himself had made up his mind to go back and spend 
the rest of his life with Kalutunah and the Esquimaux; 
and that neither persuasion nor force should divert 
him from this purpose. 
“'Upon my presenting a pistol, I succeeded in forcing 
him back to the gangway of'the brig; but he refused 
to go farther; and, being loath to injure him, I left him 
under the guardianship of Mr. Bonsall’s weapon while 
