were blocked with ice, which had evidently remained unmoved for many seasons. Under any circumstances, it was perfectly plain that the ship would be obliged to winter within a few miles of where she lay, and preliminary exploration of the coast westward, in preparation for the autumn sledging, could no longer be delayed. Accordingly, three dog-sledges were got ready to pioneer the road towards Cape Joseph Henry, to push forward a small depôt, and to search likely-looking spots for game. Dog-sledges are to an Arctic Expedition what cavalry is to an army. They act as the feelers of the advancing force, do the scout work, carry despatches, keep up communications, and are in fact the Uhlans of a sledging campaign. Speed is their strong point, but in the long run dogs are unable to carry their provisions as far as men. They have, nevertheless, accomplished long journeys in latitudes where the pick and shovel had not to travel before the sledge, and where an occasional seal or bear helped out their provender. Looked at from a distance, there is a deal of romance about dog-sledging. Imagination immediately pictures the lively galloping team flying along over the crisp snow, and the comfortably muffled driver, covered with furs, reclining on the sledge, without a trace of baggage or provisions to inconvenience him. Alas! one half-hour’s experience of the real thing is enough to take the whole gloss off the subject. The sledge is heavily laden with tent and sleeping-bags, provisions, and fuel—an item not considered by many people, without which even a drink of water is an impossibility. The driver toils along behind the sledge, guiding it by its handles as he would a plough, or flogging the dogs with all his might. Striding along in the deep snow gives him a peculiar waddling gait universal amongst the Eskimo. His companions run in front or behind, and keep up as best they can, painfully panting in the icy air, which sometimes brings blood from the lungs. When the sledge sticks in the snow, or falls into a crack, or jams between two lumps of ice, the dogs make one violent effort, and then stop doggedly till the sledge is lifted out for them. Then the driver hisses out “Kis, kis, kis,” and the whip encourages any dogs that wont understand good Eskimo or forcible English, and off they go again. The Eskimo dog is, as a rule, utterly destitute of the ordinary virtues of his species. He is simply a wolf that has found slavery convenient. After the autumn sledging season, we tried hard to rear pups. Sometimes we got them large enough to toddle about the decks, and the fat little morsels would begin to answer to their names; but if we took our eyes off them for an instant, little “Samuel” or “William Henry” would suddenly disappear, and some near relative would look a little less hungry than before. When travelling, there is generally some unpopular individual in the team, and he is snapped at by all the rest.