e hidden sun by the flood of rosy light which streams up in the
North from behind the purple mountains. It is broad daylight, and yet
all Nature is asleep, and a strange mysterious stillness, like that
of a solar eclipse, pervades heaven and earth. You can even hear the
faint roar of the surf on the rocky coast ten miles away. Now and then
a song-sparrow hidden in the alder thicket by the river bank dreams
that it is morning and breaks out into a quick unconscious trill of
melody; but as he wakes he stops himself suddenly and utters a few
"peeps" of perplexity, as if not quite sure whether it be morning, or
only last evening, and whether he ought to sing or go to sleep again.
He finally seems to decide upon the latter course, and all becomes
silent once more save the murmur of the river over its rocky bed and
the faint roar of the distant sea. Soon after one o'clock a glittering
segment of the sun appears between the cloud-like peaks of the distant
mountains, a sudden flash of golden light illumines the green dewy
landscape, the little sparrow in the alder thicket triumphantly takes
up again his unfinished song, the ducks, geese, and aquatic birds
renew their harsh discordant cries from the marshy flats along the
river, and all animated nature wakes suddenly to a consciousness of
daylight as if it were a new thing. There has been no night--but it is
another day.

The traveller who has never before experienced an arctic summer, and
who has been accustomed to think of Siberia as a land of eternal snow
and ice, cannot help being astonished at the sudden and wonderful
development of animal and vegetable life throughout that country in
the month of June, and the rapidity of the transition from winter to
summer in the course of a few short weeks. In the early part of June
it is frequently possible to travel in 'the vicinity of Gizhiga upon
dog-sledges, while by the last of the same month the trees are all in
full leaf, primroses, cowslips, buttercups, valerian, cinquefoil, and
labrador tea, blossom everywhere upon the higher plains and river
banks, and the thermometer at noon frequently reaches 70 deg. Fahr. in the
shade. There is no spring, in the usual acceptation of the word, at
all. The disappearance of snow and the appearance of vegetation are
almost simultaneous; and although the _tundras_ or moss steppes,
continue for some time to hold water like a saturated sponge, they
are covered with flowers and blossoming blueberr