WE were unwillingly detained on the island several days more. During the detention we were visited by an Esquimo, who came most unexpectedly upon us. His name was Amalatok. He had been at the ship last winter, and had seen Dr. Kane in his August trip. His dress was strikingly arctic--a bird-skin coat, feathers turned in; bear-skin pants, hair outward; seal-skin boots; and dog-skin stockings. He carried in his hand two sea birds, a bladder filled with oil, some half-putrid walrus flesh, and a seal thong. He sat down on a rock and talked with animation. While thus engaged he twisted the neck from one of the birds, inserted the fore-finger of his right hand under the skin of its neck, drew it down its back, and thus instantly skinned it. Then running his long thumb nail along the breastbone, he produced two fine fat lumps of flesh, which he offered in turn to each of our company. These were politely declined, to his great disgust, and he bolted them down himself, sending after them a hearty draught of oil from the bladder. The other bird, the remaining oil, and the coil of seal-hide we purchased of him for three needles. Soon after Amalatok's wife came up with a boy--her nephew. The woman was old, and exceedingly ugly looking; the boy was fine looking, wide-awake, and thievish--we watched him narrowly. In the evening the Esquimo left for their home on the easternly side of the island. In the afternoon of the fourteenth of September we left the island, and set our course toward Cape Parry. The sky had been clear, the air soft and balmy, and the open sea invited us onward. But a cold mist soon settled down upon us, succeeded by a curtain of snow, shutting out all landmarks, and leaving us in great doubt as to our course. The compass refused to do its office, the needle remaining where it was placed. We struck into an ice-field and became perfectly bewildered. As we groped about we struck an old floating ice-island, about twelve feet square. On this we crawled and pitched our tent. The cook contrived, with much perseverance and delay, to light the lamp, melt some snow, and make a pot of coffee. This warmed and encouraged us. But as the snow fell faster and faster, we could not unwrap our bedding without getting it wet; so we huddled together under the tent to keep each other warm. None slept, and the night wore slowly away as our ice-island floated we knew not whither. There was great occasion for despondency, but the men were wonderfully cheerful. Godfrey sung negro melodies with a gusto; Petersen told the stories of his boyhood life in Copenhagen and Iceland; John gave items of a "runner's" life in San Francisco; Whipple related the horrors of the forecastle of a Liverpool packet; and Bonsall "brought down the house" by striking up, "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" During this merriment a piece of our raft broke off, and came near plunging two of the men into the sea.