9. The end of December came, and with it the season of those festivals which animate the Christian world—Christmas-tide and the New Year. In order to celebrate them in common, we built a snow house, decorated its interior with flags, and placed in it a Christmas tree, which, however, more resembled a wooden hedgehog or a _cheval de frise_. About six o’clock in the evening all our preparations were made, and the ship’s bell, sounding mournfully in the dark and misty atmosphere, summoned us to our snow house on the ice. Here lots were drawn, and cigars, watches, knives, pipes or rum fell to the fortunate drawers. For all these presents we had to thank friends in Vienna, or Pola, or Hamburg. Then came the Christmas dinner, but no one’s heart was in the matter. Our bodies, indeed, were present, but our thoughts were far away with those we loved at home. New Year’s Eve passed off somewhat more cheerfully. Better grounded seemed our expectations that 1874 would at last bring us our long-desired activity and a not inglorious return to Europe. Scarcely had the new year begun than the crew knocked at our cabin doors with their congratulations, and such salutations continued to be the order of the day. On the whole this second winter both before and after the new year (1874), passed away without the fearful events of the preceding. Although floes lay close to us on every side, and we had no harbour in which to pass the winter with comfort—like a bear in its winter sleep—the quiescent state of the ice allowed us to hope that our floe would remain in the position it had hitherto maintained. This hope, indeed, lay at the mercy of the winds; for if north winds should set in, it was extremely probable that the ice would break up and drift asunder.