Our readers may inquire how we passed our time during our detention among the natives, and especially during the coldest of the weather, or during the long night of polar darkness. When the thermometer, during the depth of winter, would doubtless have indicated scores of degrees less than zero, we rarely ventured forth out of the huts. But far otherwise with the natives. They would go out and travel from settlement to settlement, even in the coldest weather. At times, however, they would return from their winter excursions somewhat frost-bitten. We also became, in a measure, accustomed to the intense cold, and being clothed in the garments of the natives, consisting wholly of skins and furs, we could endure a great degree of cold. If there was any outward relief to be found to our minds during the long nights of the arctic, and the entire absence of the sun for several weeks, it consisted in the peculiar and uncommon brilliancy which marked the course of the moon in those clear skies. Nor was this all. The aurora borealis there is seen in all its native beauty and grandeur. It illumined the sky with a light but little inferior to that of moonlight. It would from time to time shoot up and spread itself over the whole northern horizon, and with its sparkling scintillations and brightly-colored coruscations, it would form a splendid arch over our heads. And then, again, as the advancing column of warriors rushes into battle, so the bright line above us, with its moving front and wheeling battalions, would seem to change its hue and position, and thus prepare for a fresh onset. The aurora borealis of the arctic and polar region is one of nature's grandest and most sublime scenes ever beheld by mortals. As we were confined within the huts of the natives during a greater part of our abode with them, and as nothing particular occurred demanding our exposure out of doors, we had sufficient time to sleep, if sleep we could. To pass away time was extremely hard and irksome. Its wheels rolled slowly and heavily along. Some of us would sing to the natives, which tended not only to divert and encourage our own minds, but to please them. We found, however, they were wonderfully pleased with our singing, and so much interested were they in it, that nothing would satisfy them unless some one of us was singing to them. Thus they laid an oppressive task upon us, which we were not able to perform. What we commenced, therefore, as a sort of pastime, in order to while away tedious hours, days, and months, finally became, through the constant importunity of the natives, a grievous burden to us.