uration of the forests, the absence of true daylight and of all
signs of warmth and life exercises at last a depressing influence on the
spirits. The snow, so beautiful while the sunrise setting illumination
lasts, wears a ghastly monotony at all other times, and the air, so
exhilarating, even at the lowest temperature, becomes an enemy to be
kept out, when you know its terrible power to benumb and destroy. To the
native of a warmer zone, this presence of an unseen destructive force in
nature weighs like a nightmare upon the mind. The inhabitants of the
North also seem to undergo a species of hibernation, as well as the
animals. Nearly half their time is passed in sleep; they are silent in
comparison with the natives of the other parts of the world; there is
little exuberant gaiety and cheerfulness, but patience, indifference,
apathy almost. Aspects of nature which appear to be hostile to man,
often develop and bring into play his best energies, but there are
others which depress and paralyse his powers. I am convinced that the
extreme North, like the Tropics, is unfavourable to the best mental and
physical condition of the human race. The proper zone of man lies
between 30 deg. and 55 deg. North.

To one who has not an unusual capacity to enjoy the experiences of
varied travel, I should not recommend such a journey. With me, the
realization of a long-cherished desire, the sense of novelty, the
opportunity for contrasting extremes, and the interest with which the
people inspired me, far outweighed all inconveniences and privations. In
fact, I was not fully aware of the gloom and cold in which I had lived
until we returned far enough southward to enjoy eight hours of sunshine,
and a temperature above the freezing point. It was a second birth into a
living world. Although we had experienced little positive suffering from
the intense cold, except on the return from Muoniovara to Haparanda, our
bodies had already accommodated themselves to a low temperature, and the
sudden transition to 30 deg. above zero came upon us like the warmth of
June. My friend, Dr. Kane, once described to me the comfort he felt when
the mercury rose to 7 deg. below zero, making it pleasant to be on deck. The
circumstance was then incomprehensible to me, but is now quite plain. I
can also the better realise the terrible sufferings of himself and his
men, exposed to a storm in a temperature of -47 deg., when the same degree
of cold, with a very light