All the time, however, I was wondering how I should find my way back to the abodes of man, and how soon I might expect to start for home. I had presumed, that, as the season advanced, I should begin to drift southward; and I hoped, that, before the winter closed in again, I might reach those parts of the sea which are frequented by vessels, and so find rescue. But whether I was moving or not, it was impossible as yet to tell, as there was no fixed object in sight by which a movement could be measured. I felt very certain that the iceberg was not grounded, because there would be, occasionally, a quivering of the whole mass, which showed that it was floating on the water. It was also growing warmer and warmer every day, which was a favorable symptom. If I had known how to use the sextant or quadrant, I could have settled the matter at once. Before long, I was satisfied, from the change in the appearance of the ocean and of the sun, that I was indeed moving rapidly away from the north pole; and the fact that I was afloat was settled conclusively by a very alarming circumstance. I had observed for a day or two, that the hanging-lamp did not appear to be entirely perpendicular; and, in walking the deck, I had the sensation that I was not treading on a perfectly level surface. Searching the mate's room, I found a spirit-level, and laid it on the floor. There was no doubt of the fact: the berg was undoubtedly tilting on one side. I then remembered, that, not unfrequently, these mountains of ice rolled over, and made a complete somerset. This was now, sooner or later, going to happen. What could I do? I found that the ice, on the side that was beginning to incline towards the sea, was much higher than elsewhere, and that this superior weight was gradually destroying the equilibrium of the berg. I also observed, that, between this elevation and the more level region, there was a narrow, deep fissure, extending almost entirely across the line of the lofty projection of ice. A great thought now flashed upon me. I remembered to have seen on the deck, the day after my arrival, two or three casks, labelled "Dangerous! Handle very carefully!! Nitro-glycerine!!!" These casks I at once removed to a safe distance, marking with an upright stick the place where they were deposited. Nitro-glycerine!--I said to myself. It was that that blew up the "The European" at Panama. I remember it because I sold three hundred and nine papers by crying "Great Explosion." A newsboy knows something. And nitro-glycerine will go off if you hit it hard enough.