To forestall such a future we now ascend to the crow’s-nest daily and with the telescope search the horizon. New bergs come over one part of the circle, old ones disappear in other directions. Appearances of land are often noted, but such appearances are no longer credited. New crevasses form, old ones close, but on the whole it is, day after day, the same heaving sea of frozen whiteness. Nevertheless the views are encouraging, and they now and then revive the dying hope of release from the icy prison. There is promise in the movement of the bergs, the continued swell of the sea, and the slow mysterious turning of the floes, together with the present northerly drift. The fact that each floe persistently remains as a single individual, and refuses to unite with its neighbours to form a conglomerate mass, which would effectually and finally cut off all hope of a retreat this year, is a pleasant thought. A brisk storm would easily separate these floes, and the open water, but ninety miles north, would carry us on its stormy bosom to a more congenial climate for the winter. Last night was clear and blue. We knew from the stillness of the air and crackle of the ice that it would be very cold, and so it proved. At six o’clock it was -14.6° C. (5.72° F.), at midnight, -20° C. (-4° F.). A number of royal and small penguins and some seals were led by curiosity to visit us. They called, and cried, and talked, and grunted, as they walked over the ice about the ship, and were finally captured by the naturalist and the cook, who had an equal interest in the entertainment of our animal friends and in their future destiny. A few nights past a sea leopard interviewed the meteorologist, Arctowski. The animal sprang suddenly from a new break in the ice onto the floe, upon which Arctowski had a number of delicate meteorological instruments, and without an introduction, or any signs of friendship, the animal crept rapidly over the snow and examined Arctowski and his paraphernalia with characteristic seal inquisitiveness. The meteorologist had nothing with which to defend himself, and he didn’t appear to relish the teeth of the leopard as it advanced and separated its massive jaws with a bear-like snort. He walked around the floe, the leopard after him. The seal examined the instruments, but they were not to its liking, and as to Arctowski, it evidently did not regard him of sufficient interest to follow long, for after it had made two rounds the seal plunged into the waters, swam under the ice and around the floe, and then raised its head far out to get another glimpse of the meteorologist. Thinking that the creature contemplated another attack, Arctowski made warlike gestures, and uttered a volley of sulphureous Polish words, but the seal didn’t mind that. It raised its head higher and higher out of the water, and displayed its teeth in the best possible manner. Now and then its lips moved, and there was audible