A day’s march beyond the island and its floebergs we came to a spot where many traces of game had been seen in the autumn, but after a long search, while the sledges halted to take in a depôt of pemmican, we only found one hare track, and it led down over the crest of an inaccessible cliff, so we returned to camp empty-handed. During the night we reflected that it was a pity to lose nine pounds of fresh meat without another effort; so in the morning, while the sledges were packed, we walked along the floes to a point under where the tracks had been lost, and by carefully searching the crest of the cliff with a telescope the tracks were discovered and traced downwards, along narrow ledges and abrupt slopes, to a sheltered nook, half way down the cliff, that looked utterly inaccessible to anything but a bird. There, in her sanctuary, poor pussy sat, in fancied security, till the rifle brought her tumbling downwards to the floes just as the last sledge reached the spot. This solitary hare was the only fresh food procured by our northern sledge-crews. From henceforth they were beyond the limits of game, and in this one condition our parties differed widely from those whose precedent they were attempting to follow. The longest journeys ever accomplished were made by Sir Leopold M’Clintock and Lieutenant Meecham. The former obtained forty-six head of game, including eight reindeer and seven musk oxen; the latter no less than seventy-seven head, including nine deer and four oxen. Our party was now reduced to six sledges. The seventh returned, as had been arranged, carrying with them a man who had been an invalid since the day after leaving the ship. From this point the road lay due northward over floes half-a-mile wide, with hedges of hummocks between them. The surface looked smooth enough, but it was only a crust over soft snow, and broke under one’s weight into slabs most uncomfortable to travel over. Nothing can exceed the monotony of sledge-travelling. Day after day the same routine is gone through; day after day the same endless ice is the only thing in sight. A dark stone projecting above the snow on a cape we were approaching was the only coloured thing in sight for two whole marches, and it had a most disagreeable fascination for our eyes. In order to compensate for this blankness of scenery, every man had been advised to decorate the back of his holland overall with such devices as seemed good to him. Accordingly the back view of our sledge-crews was an extraordinary spectacle. One man’s back bore a large black anchor with the motto “Hold fast,” another displayed a complicated hieroglyphic savouring of Freemasonry. Here was a locomotive engine careering over a beautifully green sod, and on the next back a striking likeness of the Tichborne claimant bespoke the bearer’s admiration for the “distressed nobleman.” Here, again, was an artistic effort which had cost its author many a week