SUNSET.—WINTER WORK.—MY DOG-TEAMS.—"MY BROTHER JOHN'S GLACIER."—HUNTING.—PEAT BEDS.—ESQUIMAU GRAVES.—PUTREFACTION AT LOW TEMPERATURES.—SONNTAG CLIMBS THE GLACIER.—HANS AND PETER.—MY ESQUIMAU PEOPLE.—THE ESQUIMAU DOG.—SURVEYING THE GLACIER.—THE SAILING-MASTER.—HIS BIRTHDAY DINNER.
My diary thus records the advent of winter:—
October 16th.
The fair-haired god of light reposes beneath the Southern Cross. His pathway is no longer above the silent hills; but his golden locks stream over the mountains, and day lingers as a lover departing from the abode of his mistress. The cold-faced regent of the darkness treads her majestic circle through the solemn night; and the soft-eyed stars pale at her approach. Her silver tresses sweep the sea, and the wild waves are stilled like a laughing face touched by the hand of death.
Although winter and darkness are slowly settling over us, yet we have still nine hours of twilight daily, wherein to perform our out-door duties. I have completed my arrangements for the health and comfort of my little household, and have perfected my system of domestic discipline and economy, and I feel sure that the wheels of the little world which revolves around this ice-locked schooner will now move on smoothly. This done, I am at liberty to seek greater freedom of action than I have hitherto enjoyed. I have desired to
