It was a solemn moment for all. Outside the ice drifted slowly about, thick fog settled over us, the ship's whistle sounded, and night came on. The loneliness increased. When the speaker had closed his remarks he asked that the quartet sing "Nearer My God to Thee," and we sang it. Sweet and firm was the voice of the English girl now, and when, with uplifted arm and softly spoken benediction, the minister dismissed us, it was to go upon deck feeling stronger and much comforted. There was yet no breath of wind stirring. For this we thanked a kind Providence, for, had the wind risen, our lives would have been in jeopardy indeed. In that case the massive ice cakes would have been blown swiftly and heavily about to crush all ships like egg-shells and send them to the bottom of the sea. For breakfast we ate yellow corn-bread and bacon with a relish such as it never gave at home, and even those who had been seasick for days were beginning to "get away" with their rations. At eight in the morning the anchor with its rattling chain was dropped and we lay in an open spot. An hour later there was no perceptible motion of the ship, the sea was smooth as a carpet, and our tired captain had gone to bed. For forty-eight hours he had not slept, nor scarcely left the bridge, and the rest was badly needed. Two days we lay anchored in a dead calm, waiting for the passing ice to open a way for us through to Nome. Three ships lay near us, as well as two larger ones out farther in the ice-fields; but the fog hung grey and persistent over our heads and we could do nothing but wait. Another concert was given by the musicians, and as the steamer lay gently rocking upon the waters of the great sea, through the open front windows there floated out to our sister ship the sweet and pleasing strains of the violins and mandolins. Were they telling in lively allegretto movements of our safe landing on golden shores, and of our successful achievements followed by a safe and happy return to home and loved ones? Or were the adagios mournfully predicting perils, coming disaster and death? Who could tell? For myself, I felt that whatever came to me would be in accordance with the will and wish of a Higher Power, and it would be all right in any case. My choice was, of course, from the human standpoint, for life, happiness and success in the pursuit of gold; but this with me was not an obstinate nor rebellious sentiment. Should all these good things be denied me, I could say, it is well. I felt satisfied that the way for my going to Alaska had been wonderfully opened by an Unseen Influence which I had been taught from earliest childhood to recognize, and this belief, which was a firm and abiding one, held me calm and contented. Night after night I slept in my berth as soundly as though at home in my bed, and not even the sudden jolt and quiver of the icebergs coming often into collision with the ship caused me to waken.