“The Danish settlers at Upernavik, in North Greenland, are at times startled by a similar sudden rise of temperature. During the depth of winter, when all nature has been long frozen, and the sound of falling water almost forgotten, rain will fall in torrents; and as rain in such a climate is attended with every discomfort, this is looked upon as a most unwelcome phenomenon. It is called the _Warm South-east Wind_. Now, if the Greenlanders at Upernavik are astonished at a warm _South-east Wind_, how much rather must the seamen, frozen up in the pack, be astonished at a warm _North-west Wind_. Various theories have been started to account for this phenomenon; but it appears most probable that a rotatory gale passes over the place, and that the rise in temperature is due to the direction from which the whole _mass of air_ may come, viz. from the southward, and not to the direction of _wind_ at the time.” Let us now return to the narrative, for our days were now becoming mere repetitions of each other. We saw no change, nor did we hope for any until the spring. Gale followed gale; and an occasional alarm of a disruption in the ice, a bear or seal hunt, formed our only excitement; indeed, we sometimes hoped for some crisis, were it only to break the dreadful monotony of our lives. Our walks abroad afforded us no recreation; on the contrary, it was really a trying task to spin out the time necessary for exercise. Talk of a dull turnpike-road at home! Are not the larks singing and the farm boys whistling? But with us what a contrast! Our walks were without an object; one had literally nothing to see or hear; turn north, south, east, or west, still snow and hummocks. You see a little black mark waving in the air: walk to it--it is a crack in a hummock. You think a berg is close to you; go to it--still a hummock, refracted through the gloom. The only thing to do is to walk to windward, so as to be certain of returning safe and not frostbitten, to pick out a smooth place, and form imaginary patterns with your footprints. Philosophers would bid us think and reflect; but if philosophers were shut up with us amid the silence and darkness of an Arctic winter, they would probably do as we did--endeavour to get away from their thoughts.