I have started an alcohol lamp; the door is closed tightly; the party are all drawn under the sleeping-furs; the plucky ones smoke their pipes, and the balance of them shiver as if they would grow warm with the exercise. The chattering of teeth is not pleasant music.
April 5th.
Under the snow again near Cape Hatherton. Our halt at the last camp was continued for eighteen hours, until the men had got fairly thawed out, and the wind had entirely subsided. The short march hence was made slowly and steadily, as I do not wish at first to urge upon the men too much work, nor to keep them long exposed to the cold. There are no frost-bites of consequence resulting from the exposure of yesterday. The spirits of the party have somewhat revived. The temperature has risen, and the hut is warmer than that of last night,—that is, my thermometer, hanging from the runner of the sledge over my head shows 10° above zero.
April 6th.
AT CAIRN POINT. We have reached Cairn Point, and are comfortably housed. The men have come up to the work reasonably well. The depression of spirits which followed the blast of cold wind that overtook us above Sunrise Point has passed away, and all hands are gay and lively. I had no need to urge or instruct or use the snow-shovel myself at this camp. The weak in spirit have profited by their lessons, and have learned that in providing for one's comfort and safety on the ice-fields the shovel materially assists appeals to Heaven,—a very wholesome change, and, as a result of it, instead of being upward of two hours in constructing our hut, as on the first night, we have this time ac-
