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V so THE FUR COUNTRY, Qii the wonders it contains. But wait until we reach the Arctic Ocean ; wait until the winter shuts us in with its gigantic icebergs and thick covering of snow ; wait till the northern storms break over us, and the glories of the Aurora Borealis and of the splendid con- stellations of the Polar skies are spread out above our heads ; wait till we have lived through the strange long six months' night, and then indeed you will understand the infinite variety, the infinite beauty, of our Creator's handiwork ! " Thus spoke Mrs Paulina Barnett, carried away by her vivid imagination. She could see nothing but beauty in these deserted regions, with their rigorous climate. Her enthusiasm got the bettei for the time of her judgment. Her sympathy with nature enabled her to read the touching poetry of the ice-bound north — the poetry embodied in the Sagas, and sung by the bards of the time of Ossian. But Madge, more matter of fact than her mistress, disguised from herself neither the dangers of an expedition to the Arctic Ocean, nor the sufferings involved in wintering only thirty degrees at the most from the North Pole. And indeed the most robust had sometimes succumbed to the fatigues, privations, and mental and bodily agonies endured in this severe climate, Jaspar Hobson had not, it is true, to press on to the very highest latitudes of the globe ; he had not to reach the pole itself, or to follow in the steps of Parry, Ross, M'Clure, Kane, Morton, and others. But after once crossing the Arctic Circle, there is little^ variation in the temperature ; it does not increase in coldness in proportion to the elevation reached. Granted that Jaspar Hobson did not think of going beyond the seventieth parallel, we must still remember that Franklin and his unfortunate companions died of cold and hunger before they had penetrated beyond 68° N. lat. Very different was the talk in the sledge occupied by Mr and Mrs Joliffe. Perhaps the gallant Corporal had too often drunk to the success of the expedition on starting ; for, strange to say, he was- disputing with his little wife. Yes, he was actually contradicting her, which never happened except under extraordinary circum- stances ! " No, Mrs Joliffe," he was saying, " no, you have nothing to fear. A sledge is not more difficult to guide than a pony-carriage, and the devil take me if I can't manage a team of d<»gs ! " " I don't question your skill," replied Mrs Joliffe ; " I only ask you not to go so fast. You are in front of the whole caravan now,