news to the ship, and, very judiciously, waited patiently till the arrival of assistance rendered their escape impossible. A few mornings afterwards, a fine bull walked innocently down to the beach near the ship, and was forthwith slaughtered. Being a good specimen, and close at hand, he was transferred to the naturalist, and he now represents his species in the British Museum. All through the earlier weeks of July the pack gave warnings of approaching disruption. Decided motion first occurred on 16th, and on 21st the old familiar sound of “breaking plates” came from the offing, and with a loud crack the ship suddenly righted herself from the heel towards shore, which had slowly increased during the winter. Nevertheless, as long as it remained calm no important movement was likely to occur, except at high tide. We were, therefore, still able to extend our hunting expeditions to several days from the ship. It was not the search for game only, exciting as it was, that made these late trips interesting. Our hunters enjoyed a privilege that has rarely fallen to the lot of any discoverers in either past or recent times—they traversed a shore never before trodden by the foot of man. Everywhere south of the steep cliffs of Robeson Channel some vestiges of humanity were discoverable; a broken sledge-runner, a chipped flint, or a musk ox bone broken to extract the marrow, told us that wandering Eskimo had been before us; but from the cliffs northward all traces ceased—no savage hunter had ever disturbed the ice-borne boulders of Floeberg Beach to fasten down his tent of skins, or form a rough hearth for his travelling camp, and no sledges but our own were ever launched towards the icy horizon beyond— “We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.”