The great secret in packing a sledge properly is to have the weights as nearly as possible in the centre--as far from the extremes as it is possible to get them, so that the sledge may rise easily over obstacles. When all is ready, the drag-ropes are manned, and with a "one, two, three, haul," and a good pull altogether, the sledge is started and the march commenced. Care should be taken to scrape the pannikins out with a knife, before the refuse inside has time to freeze, otherwise it will be difficult to remove. Water for washing purposes, of any description, whilst sledging is quite out of the question. After marching for about five or six hours, a halt is called for lunch. This meal consists of four ounces of bacon, a little biscuit, and a warm pannikin of tea to each man. Although the most refreshing and enjoyable of all our meals, luncheon was, when there was much wind, or the weather intensely cold, a very trying one. The halt is of necessity long. Frequently an hour or an hour and a half elapses before the tea is reported ready, during which time the men are compelled to keep constantly on the move to avoid frost-bites. When there is much wind the tent is pitched; but this adds little to our comfort, for it is too cold to remain inside for any length of time. If we were not all suffering from the same cause, we should be disposed to laugh at the strange antics of our companions in their efforts to keep their feet from getting frost-bitten. One man is "marking time" at the double; another jumping up and down in a frantic manner; another is sitting down cross-legged like a Turk, or a tailor, and is occupied in belabouring his feet with his mittened hands, in his energetic endeavours to restore circulation; whilst another, unable any longer to endure the cold, commences furiously to kick the sledge, or a hummock, with both feet like one bereft of his senses. Although halted, little rest is enjoyed; anxiously is the kettle watched, and many are the tender inquiries concerning the state of the water inside. "Does it boil?" is a question frequently asked, and unless the cook is blessed with an amiable disposition, the perversity of the kettle is sufficient, at times, to drive him almost distracted. The old saw, "A watched pot never boils," is fully exemplified. At length, to the relief and delight of all, the announcement is made that the tea is ready, when all troubles are forgotten in the pleasure and enjoyment of a warm pannikin of tea. Sometimes little difficulties would arise in consequence of the haste with which it was necessary to prepare and discuss this meal. These, although serious at the time, served afterwards to amuse, and were soon forgotten. On one occasion, the water having been boiled, and the cook having, as he thought, carefully added the tea and sugar, which were as carefully stirred up, the allowance of tea was served out and eagerly drunk by the wearied sledgers, who were only too glad and