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SLOW PROGRESS.
- gin of the very floe which I have been describing,
weary, worn, and much dispirited. Since we broke camp at Cairn Point, we had made in a direct line from that place not over thirty miles. The number of miles actually traveled could not be easily estimated; but it was scarcely less than five times that distance, counting all our various twistings and turnings and goings and comings upon our track. But I propose again to let my diary speak for itself; and, as on a former occasion, when the evil genius of that unhappy manuscript led it into type, we will resort to a new chapter.
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