y for the
smoke, the fire being always built upon a broad, flat stone in the
centre of the hut. In these rude, and, according to our estimate,
comfortless cabins, they hibernate, rather than live the life of
civilized human beings, for eight months of the year.

After leaving Tromsoee our course is north-northeast, crossing wild
fjords and skirting the mainland. Along the shore at intervals little
clusters of fishermen's huts are seen, with a small sprinkling of
herbage and patches of bright verdure. As we glide along among the
islands which line the shore, we are pretty sure to fall in with one of
the little propellers, with a small swivel gun at the bow, in search of
whales. The projectile which is used consists of a barbed harpoon, to
which a short chain is affixed, and to that a strong line. This harpoon
has barbs which expand as soon as they enter the body of the animal and
he pulls upon the line, stopping at a certain angle, which renders the
withdrawal of the weapon impossible. Besides this, an explosive shell is
so attached that it quickly bursts within the monster, producing instant
death. A cable is then fastened to the head, and the whale is towed into
harbor to be cut up, and the blubber tried out on shore.

The objects which attract the eye are constantly changing. Large black
geese, too heavy for lofty flying, rise awkwardly from the waves and
skim across the fjords, just clearing the surface of the dark blue
waters. Oyster-catchers, as they are familiarly called, decked with
scarlet bills and legs, are abundant. Now and then that daring
highwayman among birds, the skua, or robber-gull, is seen on the watch
for a victim. He is quite dark in plumage, almost black, and gets a
robber's living by attacking and causing other birds to drop what they
have caught up from the sea, seizing which as it falls, he sails away to
consume at leisure his stolen prize.

Long before we reach Hammerfest our watches seem to have become
bewitched, for it must be remembered that here it is broad daylight
throughout the twenty-four hours (in midsummer) which constitute day and
night elsewhere. To sleep becomes a useless effort, and our eyes are
unusually wide open.

The Gulf Stream, emerging from the tropics thousands of miles away,
constantly laves the shores, and consequently ice is not seen. At first
it seems a little strange that there are no icebergs here in latitude
70 deg. north, when we have them on the coast of Ameri