The graves next attracted our attention; they, like all that English seamen construct, were scrupulously neat. Go where you will over the globe's surface, afar in the East, or afar in the West, down amongst the coral-girded isles of the South Sea, or here where the grim North frowns on the sailor's grave, you will always find it alike; it is the monument raised by rough hands, but affectionate hearts, over the last home of their messmate; it breathes of the quiet church-yard in some of England's many nooks, where each had formed his idea of what was due to departed worth; and the ornaments that Nature decks herself with, even in the desolation of the Frozen Zone, were carefully culled to mark the dead seamen's home. The good taste of the officers had prevented the general simplicity of an oaken head and foot-board to each of the three graves being marred by any long and childish epitaphs, or the doggerel of a lower-deck poet, and the three inscriptions were as follows:-- "Sacred to the memory of J. Torrington, who departed this life, January 1st, 1846, on board of H.M.S. 'Terror,' aged 20 years." "Sacred to the memory of Wm. Braine, R.M., of H.M.S. 'Erebus;' died April 3d, 1846, aged 32 years. "'Choose ye this day whom ye will serve.'--Josh. xxiv. 15." "Sacred to the memory of J. Hartwell, A.B., of H.M.S. 'Erebus;' died January 4th, 1846, aged 25 years. "'Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, consider your ways.'--Haggai i. 7." I thought I traced in the epitaphs over the graves of the men from the "Erebus," the manly and Christian spirit of Franklin. In the true spirit of chivalry, he, their captain and leader, led them amidst dangers and unknown difficulties with iron will stamped upon his brow, but the words of meekness, gentleness, and truth, were his device. We have seen his career and we know his deeds! "Why should their praise in verse be sung? The name that dwells on every tongue No minstrel needs." From the graves, a tedious ascent up the long northern slope of Beechey Island carried us to the table-land, on whose southern verge, a cairn of stones, to which I have before referred, was placed; it had been several times pulled down by different searchers, and dug up underneath, but carefully replaced. The position was an admirable one, and appeared as if intentionally chosen to attract the attention of vessels coming up Barrow's Strait: from it, on the day I was up, the view was so extensive, that, did I not feel certain of being supported by all those who have, like myself, witnessed the peculiar clearness, combined with refraction, of the atmosphere in Polar climes, I should bear in mind the French adage,--"La verite n'est pas toujours le vraisemblable," and hold my peace.