open a seal-skin tobacco-pouch, shook out its contents, and ate it; and another bolted our only piece of soap. This looks bad for our future cleanliness, but thirty-two days, at these low temperatures, have worn off the sharp edge of fastidiousness. At first we had always a morning wash with a handful of snow; but latterly we are not so particular, and we shall not grieve over the soap as much as we might have done some weeks ago.
Our provisions are disappearing with alarming rapidity; and yet, whenever I stint the dogs in the least, down they go. If the dogs fail me, then nothing can be done, and I am completely at fault. Two days more must surely bring us to land. We are making in for Cape Hawks, but we are compelled to own that the Cape grows from day to day very little bolder. The numerous baitings to rest the dogs, and the forced halts caused by the breaking of the sledges and traces, when I can do nothing to speed the start, give me fine opportunities for plotting the coast; and my "field-book" and "sketch-book" are both well used.
May 6th.
A COLD SUPPER. A most miserable day's work brought to a most miserable end. McDonald spilled our smoking-hot supper on the snow; and, as we could not afford a second allowance of fuel (lard and rope-yarns), we were in as great danger of going to bed supperless as Baillie Nicol Jarvie, at the Clachan of Aberfoil, before the red-hot coulter brought the churly Highlanders to reason; but, luckily, McDonald managed, much to our satisfaction, to scrape up the greater part of the hash along with the snow, and we ate it cold. The coffee was, however, of course, irrecoverable, and
