SUNRISE. February 18th. Heaven be praised! I have once more seen the sun. Knowing that the sun would appear to-day, everybody was filled with expectation, and hastened off after breakfast to some favorite spot where it was thought that he might be seen. Some went in the right direction, and were gratified; others went in the wrong direction, and were disappointed. Knorr and others of the officers climbed the hills above Etah. Charley limbered up his rheumatic old legs, and tried to get a view from the north side of the harbor, forgetting that the mountains intervened. Harris and Heywood climbed to the top of the hill behind the harbor, and the former shook his Odd Fellow's flag in the sun's very face. The cook was troubled that he did not have a look at "de blessed sun;" but he could not gratify his wish without going upon the land, and this he could no more be induced to do than the mountain could be persuaded to come to Mahomet. He will probably have to wait until the sun steals over the hills into the harbor, which will be at least twelve days. [Sidenote: SUNRISE.] My own share in the day's excitement has been equal to the rest of them. Accompanied by Dodge and Jensen, I set out at an early hour toward a point on the north side of the bay, from which I could command a view of the southern horizon. We had much difficulty in reaching our destination. The open water came nearly a mile within the point for which we were bound, and it was no easy task picking our way along the sloping drifts of the ice-foot. But we were at last successful, and reached our lookout station (hereafter to be known as Sunrise Point) with half an hour to spare. The day was far from a pleasant one for a holiday excursion. The temperature was very low, and the wind, blowing quite freshly, brought the drifting snow down from the mountains, and rattled it about us rather sharply. But we were amply repaid by the view which was spread out before us.