wreaking their fury on the ice of the harbor, into which their Titan touch opened many a gaping wound.
June 28th.
FRESH EGGS. The storm subsiding this morning, a party got a boat over the ice into the water, and, pulling to the outer island, brought back the first fresh eggs of the season. Those of the little tern or sea-swallow are the most delightful eggs that I have ever tasted. Those of the eider-duck are, like the eggs of all other duck, not very palatable. Knorr lit upon a patch of cochlearia which had just sprouted up around the bird-*nests of the last year, and no head of the first spring lettuce was ever more enjoyed. I had a capital salad. The islands promise to give us all the eggs we want, and we shall have little more trouble in getting them than a housewife who sends to the farm-yard. The ducks have plucked the first instalment of down from their breasts, and Jensen has brought in a good-sized bagful of it. The poor birds have been, I fear, robbed to little purpose, and will have to pick themselves again. Jensen tells me that, upon the islands near Upernavik, where he has often gone for eider-down, the male bird is sometimes obliged to pluck off his handsome coat, to help out his unhappy spouse, when she has been so often robbed that she can pluck no more of the tender covering for her eggs from her naked breast.
June 30th.
Another rain-storm, during which half an inch of water has fallen. The temperature has gone down to 38°. The ice is loosening, and threatens to break up bodily.
