Midsummer in the Frozen Seas 
August came to the Arctic seas, clear and beautiful. Light- 
blue skies, with fleecy clouds playing over, reminded more of 
an autumn day in Maine or Nova Scotia than midsummer in 
the Greenland pack, as one pictured it. 
Only the floes, drifting gently by, and a glassy sea, ever 
at hand, served to dispel the illusion. 
On the quarter-deck we basked in the sunshine—reading, 
writing, and playing the graphophone. 
This perfect weather continued for eight days, the wind 
changing to west-northwest. 
Despite it, the pack refused to break or to be broken, and as 
the wind changed to northeast and the ice became heavier, the 
Captain decided to make course south, in hope of finding more 
open ice in the lower latitudes. 
On the ioth a defective cylinder-cap caused a lay-up of 
several hours. An exciting bear hunt also occupied that day, 
resulting in the bringing to bag of a good specimen, measur¬ 
ing seven feet one inch. 
With heavy hearts at the barricades of ice, we resolved to 
turn, sailing back to what was, at least, a better land for bear; 
there to hunt till this ice chose to open. Early August, we 
felt, might bring such a change. 
It was about this time first that we began to notice the 
wane of the all-too-short Arctic summer. 
The warning came simultaneously with our first sight 
of the moon; and then, as if to emphasize, fresh ice began 
forming at night. This, we were told, was due to the fresh 
water, which melts from the ice-floes, remaining on top of 
the salt, and so freezing quite readily. 
Shortly after 6 P. M. Learmonth sighted a bear climbing 
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Aug. 1st 
Aug. 10 th 
Aug. 11th 
