began to mend, and they recovered from their
scurvy. Eventually, after other perils, they succeeded in making their
escape.

A strait, called Sir Thomas Rowe's Welcome, leads due north out of Hudson
Bay, being parted by Southampton Island from the strait through which we
entered. Its name is quaint, for so was its discoverer, Luke Fox, a
worthy man, addicted much to euphuism. Fox sailed from London in the
same year in which James sailed from Bristol. They were rivals. Meeting
in Davis Straits, Fox dined on board his friendly rival's vessel, which
was very unfit for the service upon which it went. The sea washed over
them and came into the cabin, so says Fox, "sauce would not have been
wanted if there had been roast mutton." Luke Fox, being ice-bound and in
peril, writes, "God thinks upon our imprisonment within a _supersedeas_;"
but he was a good and honourable man as wall as euphuist. His "Sir
Thomas Rowe's Welcome" leads into Fox Channel: our "Phantom Ship" is
pushing through the welcome passes on the left-hand Repulse Bay. This
portion of the Arctic regions, with Fox Channel, is extremely perilous.
Here Captain Lyon, in the _Griper_, was thrown anchorless upon the mercy
of a stormy sea, ice crashing around him. One island in Fox Channel is
called Mill Island, from the incessant grinding of great masses of ice
collected there. In the northern part of Fox Channel, on the western
shore, is Melville Peninsula, where Parry wintered on his second voyage.
Here let us go ashore and see a little colony of Esquimaux.

Their limits are built of blocks of snow, and arched, having an ice pane
for a window. They construct their arched entrance and their
hemispherical roof on the true principles of architecture. Those wise
men, the Egyptians, made their arch by hewing the stones out of shape;
the Esquimaux have the true secret. Here they are, with little food in
winter and great appetites; devouring a whole walrus when they get it,
and taking the chance of hunger for the next eight days--hungry or full,
for ever happy in their lot--here are the Esquimaux. They are warmly
clothed, each in a double suit of skins sewn neatly together. Some are
singing, with good voices too. Please them, and they straightway dance;
activity is good in a cold climate: Play to them on the flute, or if you
can sing well, sing, or turn a barrel-organ, they are mute, eager with
wonder and delight; their love of music is intense. Give them