his hands and knees, and just as he raises his rifle for a shot his goggles are like pieces of ground glass. The native spectacles give such a limited field of vision that it is impossible to use them in hunting; but the wire-gauze seems to be free from all these objections. A well-supplied expedition is provided with every kind of snow-goggles, as they are absolutely essential to the well being of the party. The superiority of the wire-gauze pattern seemed to have been appreciated by the Franklin expedition, for many of them were subsequently found at the various burial-places and at other points where relics were obtained. It is also said that painting around the eyes upon the upper and lower lids with burned cork or some dark pigment is a protection against snow-blindness; but it is doubtful if this method has been sufficiently tested to admit of its being relied upon. The symptoms of snow-blindness are inflammation of the inner coating of the lids, accompanied by intense pain and impairment of the vision, so as to disable the sufferer from the performance of his duties. A wash of diluted tincture of opium is probably the best remedy, and gives almost immediate relief. The patient should remain within doors for two or three days, by which time he will usually be sufficiently cured to resume his out-door labors. It might be supposed that in the utter barrenness of the Arctic landscape, flowers never grew there. This would be a great mistake. The dweller in that desolate region, after passing a long, weary winter, with nothing for the eye to rest upon but the vast expanse of snow and ice, is in a condition to appreciate, beyond the ability of an inhabitant of warmer climes, the little flowerets that peep up almost through the snow when the spring sunlight begins to exercise its power upon the white mantle of the earth. In little patches here and there, where the dark-colored moss absorbs the warm rays of the sun, and the snow is melted from its surface, the most delicate flowers spring up at once to gladden the eye of the weary traveller. It needs not the technical skill of the botanist to admire these lovely tokens of approaching summer. Thoughts of home, in a warmer and more hospitable climate, fill his heart with joy and longing, as meadows filled with daisies and buttercups spread out before him, while he stands upon the crest of a granite hill that knows no footstep other than the tread of the stately musk-ox or the antlered reindeer, as they pass in single file upon their frequent journeys, and whose caverns echo to no sound save the howling of the wolves or the discordant cawing of the raven. He is a boy again, and involuntarily plucks the feathery dandelion, and seeks the time of day by blowing the puffy fringe from its stem, or tests the faith of the fair one, who is dearer to him than ever in this hour of separation, by picking the leaves from the yellow-hearted daisy. Tiny little violets, set in a background of black or dark green