“It may be imagined with what feelings,” says Kennedy, “when we really had come upon it, we approached a spot round which so many hopes and anxieties had so long centred. Every object, distinguished by the moonlight in the distance, became animated to our imaginations, into the forms of our long-absent countrymen; for had they been imprisoned anywhere in the Arctic Seas, within a reasonable distance of Fury Beach, here we felt assured some of them at least would have been now. But alas! for these fond hopes! How deeply, though perhaps unconsciously cherished, none of us probably suspected, till standing under the tattered covering of Somerset House, and gazing silently upon the solitude around us, we felt as we turned to look mournfully on each other’s faces, that the last ray of hope as to this cherished imagination had fled from our hearts. It is perhaps necessary for the vigorous prosecution of any difficult object that for the moment, some particular circumstance in the chain of operations by which it is to be effected, should seem to us so vitally important that the eye is blinded to all beyond. The spot on which we now stood had so long been associated in our minds with some clue to the discovery of the solution of the painful mystery which hung over the fate of Franklin, and had so long unconsciously perhaps coloured all our thought, that it was not without a pang, and a feeling as if the main purpose of our expedition had been defeated, that we found all our long-cherished anticipations shattered at a blow by the scene which met our eyes. Thus my friend and I stood paralyzed at the death-like solitude around us. No vestige of the visit of a human being was here since Lieutenant Robinson had examined the depot in 1849. The stores, still in the most perfect preservation, were precisely in the well-arranged condition, described in the clear report of that energetic officer.” “His own notice of his visit,” continues Mr. Kennedy, “was deeply buried in the snow, and the index staff he had placed over it was thrown down and gnawed by the foxes. Wearied with a long and fruitless examination we took up our quarters for a repose of a few hours in Somerset House, the frame of which was still standing entire, but the covering blown to rags by the wind, and one end of the house nearly filled with snow. We lighted a fire on the stove which had heated the end occupied by Sir John Ross’s crew during the dreary winter of 1832-33. “After refreshing ourselves with a warm supper, and nodding for a few hours over the fire, we set out about 11 P.M. on our return to our encampment, which we reached by 2 A.M. of the following morning. Our return from this point to the ship, which we reached about 5 P.M. of Saturday the 10th, was not marked by any incident worthy of notice.