A walk of twenty minutes brought me to an inlet not more than a quarter of a mile wide. This I traced to the westward for upwards of a league, when my course was again obstructed by land. There were some high rocks near at hand which I ascended, and from the summit I thought I could distinguish rough ice in the desired direction. With renewed hopes I slid down a declivity, plunging among snow, scrambling over rocks, and through rough ice until I gained more level ground. I then directed my steps to some rising ground which I found to be close to the seashore. From the spot on which I now stood, as far as the eye could reach to the north-westward, lay a large extent of ice-covered sea, studded with innumerable islands. Lord Mayor's Bay was before me, and the islands were those named by Sir John Ross the Sons of the Clergy of the Church of Scotland. The isthmus which connects the land to the north with the continent is only one mile broad, and even in this short space there are three small ponds. From the great number of stone marks set up (the only ones that I saw on this part of the coast), I am led to infer that this is a deer-pass in the autumn, and consequently a favourite resort of the natives. Its latitude is 69° 31' N., longitude by account 91° 29' 30" W. This latter differs only a mile or two from that of the same place as laid down by Sir James C. Ross, with whose name I distinguished the isthmus, calling the land to the northward Sir John Ross's Peninsula. After going down to the ice in Hardy Bay, and offering with a humble and grateful heart thanks to Him who had thus brought our journey so far to a successful termination, I began to retrace my steps towards my companions. At a late hour I reached our snow hut, an excellent roomy one, in which we could lie in any position; no trifling comfort after a walk of more than forty miles over a rough road.