narrow and somewhat precipitous path winding along the side of that steep hill. The stout Germans took the lead, and the stentorian voice of the German Professor resounded from rock to rock as he shouted to his companions far above him or far below him; and sounds of merry laughter and of stray bits of song disturbed the echoes of the night! The Swiss gentleman, of whom I have also spoken above, was as vigorous at his age—probably over fifty—as a young man of thirty, and soon left me, a very poor mountaineer, far behind. We called him Napoleon, because he kept a beard in the style of Napoleon III., and we used to be considerably amused by the partiality he always manifested for a real good substantial dinner,—reading out day after day the bill of fare with great gusto and self-satisfaction! American parties also came up one after another, and the merry laughter of fair ladies rung in the stillness of that lonesome hill.
At last we were fairly on the top of the hill, after having passed several large patches of snow hanging in crevices. The sun was above the horizon, but it was impossible to see it through the mist which rose and gathered that night, and we could therefore only imagine his solar majesty and know and feel his presence in the broad daylight around us. From the highest part of the North Cape we looked on the vast and limitless Arctic Ocean rolling under our feet. We had come to the end of our travels, we had reached the point where Europe ends, where the habitation of man terminates, and where the great unknown Polar Sea begins. It is impossible
