the Eskimos use or wear the seal furnishes something. Even the membranous tissues of the body are frequently stretched and dried, and made into semi-transparent windows for the snow huts. The small Greenland seal is a very pretty creature in the water; its fur is a shiny white, beautifully variegated with black and obscure dark spots on the back and sides; its weight is about 50 or 60 lbs. The largest kind of seal is the hooded or bearded seal, which is very ponderous in its action. When assailed, it makes a revolution, and goes down like a whale, head foremost; while the small seal drops backward, tail down, the head disappearing last.'

Ibid.

The British nation has not won all the honours

of Arctic discovery; Germany, Prussia, Holland,

Sweden, Denmark, Austria, and Russia have each contributed more or less to our knowledge of the icy regions. We can only notice briefly two or three of them, and need not go farther back than the last nine or ten years.

Germany deservedly occupies a prominent place, principally through the exertions of the worldknown geographer, the late Dr. Petermann. A letter of his, which appeared in the daily papers in December 1876, showed that he firmly believed in the practicability of reaching the North Pole by the east coast of Greenland. An expedition, sent out principally at his instance, in 1868, was not successful; yet the vessel reached a little beyond the 81st parallel, off Spitzbergen.

A second expedition was decided upon, and liberally subscribed to by the chief cities of Germany, to be under the same command (viz. Capt. Koldewey); but this time to consist of two ships, and to advance by the east coast of Greenland into the unknown Arctic regions. Two ships were accordingly fitted out, the Germania and the Hansa-the latter under the command of Capt. Hegemann, the former under Capt. Koldewey, who was also to guide the expedition. About six weeks after their departure from Bremerhaven, the two ships were separated from each other in the darkness whilst struggling with the ice, nor were they ever brought together again. The narratives of the crews from this point are extremely interesting; that of the Hansa in particular affords a story of adventure and wonderful escape scarcely to be equalled in any book of fiction. It is almost impossible in this lesson to give even a digest of the account so as to give you an adequate conception of it. We will, however, try to follow the Hansa for a little while. After

leaving her companion ship, as just named, about lat. 75° N., Captain Hegemann had an incessant struggle with the ice for nine weeks. When some 20 miles or so from the Greenland coast, his vessel got pressed in between the ice, and drifted southward along with an enormous ice-field. After getting

liberated from this, they still found it impossible to gain the coast (which might have been gained had the vessel been a steamer), so they moored their ship to another large ice-field. Very soon they were completely frozen in. At this time they were perhaps only 30 miles from land; but between

the edge of their ice-field and the land was an open strait. The great pressure of the ice against the ship threatened it with destruction; therefore they adopted the precaution of building a house upon the ice. For this purpose they used coal and other fuel, and made their mortar of water and snow. Into this house they carried provisions and stores for two months, in case any sudden destruction of the vessel should take place.

All this time the ice-field was drifting to the south some 7 or 8 miles a day. Several times they went across to its western edge, and were within a few miles of the shore, a lane of water running between. They might, perhaps, have crossed in boats, but the discoveries of Captain Scoresby years before on this coast led them to believe that they would not find any Eskimo settlements. Their only safety appeared to be in keeping on the ice-field, which was surely drifting between Greenland and Iceland, until they were much farther south and nearer human help. The dreaded catastrophe at length arrived; the ship, crushed by the enormous pressure, began to sink, and soonbecame a wreck. In the bitter cold, they carried as much as possible from the sinking ship, and secured three boats, as a last resource should their floating prison break up.

They had now time to examine the field of ice on which they were likely to pass the winter. They found it some 7 miles in circumference, with an average diameter of 2 miles, and a thickness of 45 feet; such a mass of ice it is difficult to imagine. The coal house was then their only refuge, but even in this they managed to keep up Christmas, and be as merry as could be expected. Early in January they heard terrific noises, and felt violent motions;

they found the field had been broken, and now was only one mile across, and their house not 200 steps from the edge. They were so near the coast as to mark every outline, and several places they named in passing them; one was called New Year's Island, another Bay of Horrors, a third Cape Buchholz, after their surgeon, and another Cape Hildebrandt, the name of an officer. No sign of human habitation appeared, no friendly sail of whaling vessel came in sight; their situation became perilous. An extract from the journal of the 11th of January will give you some idea of their position: This morning Hildebrandt alarmed us with the cry, "All hands turn out!" The cry was seconded by the chaotic noises outside. Forth we rushed, clad in our furs, and provided with our knapsacks. What a sight presented itself to our astonished eyes! The elements seemed to be let loose; a driving wind blew from the north-east; the snow fell in blinding showers; the floe around us was crashing and splitting, and the sea rolled heavily upon it. The ice-raft which had been our safety threatened to become our destruction. Between our hut and the wood-pile, a space of about 20 yards, opened a huge chasm, through which the waves poured in furious tumult; and our floe, now greatly reduced in size, rocked to and fro like a small skiff. It was with difficulty we saved our boat Bismarck; and even the whale-boat we saved only by hauling it up into the middle of the floe. The large boat, being beyond our strength, we lost. We could not but believe that our end was come. We grasped each other's hands and uttered a sad farewell. Then we sought the shelter of our boats, and while the cold snow fell around us, and the wind hurtled through the air, we waited patiently and sadly.