CAMP AT COLUMBIA 
loud, and so I am not in a position to say what 
their hterary tastes were. 
Even on shipboard, we had no pigskin 
hbrary or five-foot shelf of sleep-producers, 
but each member had some favorite books in 
his cabin, and they helped to form a circulating 
library. 
While we waited here, we had time to ap- 
preciate the magnificent desolation about us. 
Even on the march, with loaded sledges and 
tugging dogs to engage attention, uncon- 
sciously one finds oneself with wits wool- 
gathering and eyes taking in the scene, and 
suddenly being brought back to the business of 
the hour by the fiend-like conduct of his team. 
There is an irresistible fascination about the 
regions of northernmost Grant Land that is 
impossible for me to describe. Having no 
poetry in my soul, and being somewhat hard- 
ened by years of experience in that inhos- 
pitable country, words proper to give you an 
idea of its unique beauty do not come to mind. 
Imagine gorgeous bleakness, beautiful blank- 
ness. It never seems broad, bright day, even 
in the middle of June, and the sky has the 
66 
