April 11.--The ice is spreading, leaving large open lanes in which we see whales, seals, and penguins. The day is clear with a very light air from the south-west. Four white petrels are about the ship, and far out over the leads we observe a few giant, and some spotted brown, or antarctic petrels. Aside from our usual work of making observations, and recording the passing conditions of weather, and life, and ice, we have begun to house the _Belgica_. The sailors have, for a long time, been building a wall of blocks of snow about the bark. The great quantity of drift-snow during the past few weeks has evened this up to the gunwales, but the decks are still too open and permit, unnecessarily, the escape of the heat from our stoves. It will be necessary to economise greatly with fuel, for we have now hardly sufficient to give full steam for fifteen days. The poop remains buried under a bed of snow and ice two feet thick, and most of the windows are being closed because there is already upon the glass too much condensation of frost to permit light to enter. Amidships we are building a shed to permit a sheltered passage from the cabin to the laboratory. This will be covered by snow, and under it the engineer will erect a smith-shop in which to make iron repairs to the _Belgica_ and the various articles of equipment. Heretofore it has been difficult to get out because of the great quantities of snow which has buried everything on deck. We hope the new shed will eliminate this misery which almost forbids our disembarkment. We have found it necessary to make double storm doors and double windows to prevent sudden changes in interior temperatures. By experience it has been found that ventilation through small pipes from corners of the rooms is the best. If the windows or doors are opened a volume of cold air rushes in, and at once everything is wet from the condensation out of the air by sudden chilling. If I were to sum up in two words the things which in polar regions bring about the greatest amount of suffering, I would say humidity and isolation. We try in every possible way, in the cut of our garments, in the construction of our winter quarters, and in the arrangement of our sleeping apartments to eliminate moisture, but our success is small. If we drop our hands behind our beds a weight of frost falls with a metallic tingle. If the mattress is removed every nail is found to be covered with ice. Both Racovitza and Danco vow that they have icebergs as bedfellows, and when one goes between decks there is always sufficient hoar-frost falling down one’s back to keep up a warm volley of words. My room mate frequently opens the port and forgets to close it when the wind changes: consequently we have to shovel a bank of snow out of our beds every second or third day. If we could only get rid of this infernal humidity which plagues and follows us like an agent of Satan, and if we could take a run to a civilised town once monthly so that we might