zon. But the snow impeded the view,
and if it did not cause complete obscurity it rendered navigation
laborious.

On the 21st of April Desolation Cape appeared in the midst of thick
mists; the crew were tired out with the constant strain on their
energies rendered necessary ever since they had got amongst the
icebergs; the sailors had not had a minute's rest; it was soon
necessary to have recourse to steam to cut a way through the heaped-up
blocks. The doctor and Johnson were talking together on the stern,
whilst Shandon was snatching a few hours' sleep in his cabin.
Clawbonny was getting information from the old sailor, whose numerous
voyages had given him an interesting and sensible education. The
doctor felt much friendship for him, and the boatswain repaid it with
interest.

"You see, Mr. Clawbonny," Johnson used to say, "this country is not
like all others; they call it _Green_land, but there are very few
weeks in the year when it justifies its name."

"Who knows if in the tenth century this land did not justify its name?"
added the doctor. "More than one revolution of this kind has been
produced upon our globe, and I daresay I should astonish you if I
were to tell you that according to Icelandic chronicles two thousand
villages flourished upon this continent about eight or nine hundred
years ago."

"You would so much astonish me, Mr. Clawbonny, that I should have
some difficulty in believing you, for it is a miserable country."

"However miserable it may be, it still offers a sufficient retreat
to its inhabitants, and even to civilised Europeans."

"Without doubt! We met men at Disko and Uppernawik who consented to
live in such climates; but my ideas upon the matter were that they
lived there by compulsion and not by choice."

"I daresay you are right, though men get accustomed to everything,
and the Greenlanders do not appear to me so unfortunate as the workmen
of our large towns; they may be unfortunate, but they are certainly
not unhappy. I say unhappy, but the word does not translate my thought,
for if these people have not the comforts of temperate countries,
they are formed for a rude climate, and find pleasures in it which
we are not able to conceive."

"I suppose we must think so, as Heaven is just. Many, many voyages
have brought me upon these coasts, and my heart always shrinks at
the sight of these wretched solitudes; but they ought to have cheered
up these capes, promontories, and bays with