ten times as hy. Grim sais it's nother wun thing nor anuther, but a
hydeear that _is_ sumhow or other a fact, but yit don't exist at all.
Tom Green wants to no if there's any conexshun between it an' the pole
that's conected with elections. In fact, we're all at sea, in a riglar
muz abut this, an' as Dr. Singleton's a syentiffick man, praps he'll
give us a leadin' article in your nixt--so no more at present from--
Yours to command,

JOHN BUZZBY.

This contribution was accompanied with an outline illustration of Mivins
eating sugar with a ladle in the pantry, and Davie Summers peeping in at
the door--both likenesses being excellent.

Some of the articles in the _Arctic Sun_ were grave and some were gay,
but all of them were profitable, for Fred took care that they should be
charged either with matter of interest or matter provocative of mirth.
And, assuredly, no newspaper of similar calibre was ever looked forward
to with such expectation, or read and re-read with such avidity. It was
one of the expedients that lasted longest in keeping up the spirits of
the men.

The rat-hunting referred to in the foregoing "summary" was not a mere
fiction of Buzzby's brain. It was a veritable fact. Notwithstanding the
extreme cold of this inhospitable climate, the rats in the ship
increased to such a degree that at last they became a perfect nuisance.
Nothing was safe from their attacks--whether substances were edible or
not, they were gnawed through and ruined--and their impudence, which
seemed to increase with their numbers, at last exceeded all belief. They
swarmed everywhere--under the stove, about the beds, in the lockers,
between the sofa cushions, amongst the moss round the walls, and inside
the boots and mittens (when empty) of the men. And they became so
accustomed to having missiles thrown at them, that they acquired to
perfection that art which Buzzby described as "keeping one's weather-eye
open."

You couldn't hit one if you tried. If your hand moved towards an object
with which you intended to deal swift destruction, the intruder paused,
and turned his sharp eyes towards you, as if to say, "What! going to try
it again?--come, then, here's a chance for you." But when you threw, at
best you could only hit the empty space it had occupied the moment
before. Or, if you seized a stick, and rushed at the enemy in wrath, it
grinned fiercely, showed its long white teeth, and then vanished with a
fling of its tail that could b