April 25.--It has been a charming, clear day, with only a few stratus clouds along the horizon, and a light, pearly mist rising in a straight line from the ice. Several times during the day we saw parts of a white rainbow or fog-eater. The photographs which we now take prove that the light is feeble, though seemingly bright. It is quite impossible to make good negatives at the present time. This, I believe, is due not only to the feebleness of the light, but to the glancing direction of the rays, the yellowness of their colour, and the fact that the beams of light strike the snow at such an angle that they glance off into space, and make the atmosphere itself partly luminous, which destroys the plates. The pack is again apparently at rest; the new leads and lakes are covered with young ice, which is frosted by a beautiful growth of flowery bunches of hoar-frost. These leads, in the present yellow light, have assumed a most intense green colour, and as they wind about the blue ice-walls and the cream-coloured floes the scene becomes entrancing. The temperature this morning was -21° C.; to-night, at nine, it is -27.5° C. There is a feeble arc aurora in the usual position. Its brightness is about like that of the milky-way, and this is the average strength of most antarctic auroras. Our position is daily getting to be of greater interest. This is shown by our attention to the work of the captain and others upon whom we depend to tell us where, in this aimless drift, we are pointing. When Captain Lecointe goes out to “shoot” the stars we await his return with some impatience, and, though he cannot at once give us the exact figures, we are inquisitive to learn quickly his guesses at the amount of the latest drift, but he must often stamp and kick, and we must punch and rub him, to start his circulation before he can talk.