A THAW.
November 10th.
We are in the midst of a regular thaw,—a thaw in November under the Pole Star,—truly a strange event to chronicle. The temperature has gone up to 11° above zero.
The cold of the last month has frescoed the house on deck with delicate frost,—the condensed moisture that escapes from below. In many places this frost is two inches thick, and now it is melting. The water drops upon the deck, and every thing thereon is soaked. We have reduced the fires and opened the windows.
November 11th.
The temperature continues to rise, and the thaw goes on. A regular shower falls upon the deck. There is a huge puddle amidships, and the drip, drip, drip is any thing but agreeable.
My journal is looking up,—two novelties in one day. First a thaw, and then a newspaper. The free press follows the flag all over the world, and the North Pole rejoices in "The Port Foulke Weekly News."
During the past week everybody has been much interested in a newspaper enterprise, bearing the above title. Thinking to create a diversion that would confound our enemy, the darkness, I proposed some time ago to the officers that we should publish a weekly paper, offering at the same time my assistance. The proposition was hailed with pleasure, and my fullest anticipations are more than realized. Mr. Dodge and Mr. Knorr undertook to act as editors, at least for the first week, and they have busied themselves gathering from cabin and forecastle whatever was likely to prove attractive, and right good success have they met with. The first number appeared to-day, and it contains
