SONNTAG.--TWILIGHT INCREASING.--A DEER-HUNT.--THE ARCTIC FOXES.--THE POLAR BEAR.--ADVENTURES WITH BEARS.--OUR NEW ESQUIMAUX.--ESQUIMAU DRESS.--A SNOW HOUSE.--ESQUIMAU IMPLEMENTS.--A WALRUS HUNT. I will not trouble the reader with the many gloomy reflections which I find scattered over the pages of my journal during the period succeeding the events which are recorded in the last chapter. While the loss of my dogs left me in much doubt and uncertainty as to my future prospects, the death of Mr. Sonntag deprived me of assistance which was very essential to the accomplishment of some of my purposes. His familiar acquaintance with the physical sciences, and his earnest enthusiasm in every thing which pertained to physical research, both in the field and study, made him an invaluable aid, while his genial disposition and manly qualities gave him a deep hold upon my affections. Similarity of taste and disposition, equal age, a common object, and a mutual dependence for companionship, had cemented more and more closely a bond of friendship which had its origin in the dangers and fortunes of former travel. [Sidenote: A DEER-HUNT.] The light was now growing upon us from day to day, and we found a fresh excitement in the renewal of the hunt. It must not, however, be supposed that, even at noon, we had yet any daylight; but there was a twilight, which was increasing with each successive day. The reindeer had grown very poor during the winter, and their flesh was tough and almost tasteless; but this did not discourage the hunters, and several captures were made. One day a large herd came down near the store-house, which, being reported, caused a general scramble for guns, and a rush over the hills to surround the game. The crew appeared more like boys on a holiday frolic than men catering for their mess. They made noise enough, as one would have thought, to frighten every living thing from the neighborhood; but, nevertheless, three deer were shot. The thermometer stood at 41° below zero, and, there being a light wind, the air was somewhat biting, and gave rise to numerous incidents quite characteristic of our life. The handling of the cold gun was attended with some risk to the fingers, as one can neither pull the trigger nor load with a mittened hand; and there were quite a number of slight "burns," as wounds from this cause were jestingly called. McDonald carried an old flint-lock musket, the only weapon that he could lay his hands on, and in the midst of the excitement he was heard to fire. Hurrying in that direction, Knorr eagerly inquired what he was shooting at, and where the game had gone. His answer afterward furnished us not a little amusement: "There was a monstrous big deer deer there half an hour ago, and had I pulled trigger when I left the ship I should have killed him. But you see the powder is so cold that it won't burn, and it takes half an hour to touch it off;" and, to prove his theory, he