Thinly dressed, without a proper cap and without gloves, I have no feeling left in body or limbs, and I crawl away below. "Sunday, December 10th. Another peaceful Sunday. The motto for the day in the English almanac is: 'He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper: but he is more excellent who can suit his temper to any circumstances' (Hume). Very true, and exactly the philosophy I am practising at this moment. I am lying on my berth in the light of the electric lamp, eating cake and drinking beer while I am writing my journal; presently I shall take a book and settle down to read and sleep. The arc lamp has shone like a sun to-day over a happy company. We have no difficulty now in distinguishing hearts from diamonds on our dirty cards. It is wonderful what an effect light has. I believe I am becoming a fire-worshipper. It is strange enough that fire-worship should not exist in the Arctic countries. "'For the sons of men Fire is the best, And the sight of the sun.' "A newspaper appears on board now. Framsjaa [38] (news of, or outlook from, the Fram) is its name, and our doctor is its irresponsible editor. The first number was read aloud this evening, and gave occasion for much merriment. Among its contents are: '"WINTER IN THE ICE (Contribution to the Infant Framsjaa) Far in the ice there lies a ship, boys, Mast and sail ice to the very tip, boys; But, perfectly clear, If you listen you can hear, There is life and fun on board that ship, boys. What can it be? Come along and see-- It is Nansen and his men that laugh, boys. Nothing to be heard at night but glasses' clink, boys, Fall of greasy cards and counters' chink, boys; If he won't "declare," Nordahl he will swear Bentzen is stupid as an owl, boys. Bentzen cool, boys, Is not a fool, boys; "You're another!" quickly he replies, boys. Among those sitting at the table, boys, Is "Heika," [39] with his body big and stable, boys; He and Lars, so keen, It would almost seem They would stake their lives if they were able, boys. Amundsen, again, Looks at these two men, Shakes his head and sadly goes to bed, boys. [40] Sverdrup, Blessing, Hansen, and our Mohn, [41] boys, Say of "marriage," "This game is our own," boys; Soon for them, alas! The happy hour is past; And Hansen he says, "Come away, old Mohn!" boys. "It is getting late, And the stars won't wait, You and I must up and out alone," boys.