ern sky was massed with swaying auroral
light, the most vivid and beautiful display that I had ever seen--fold
on fold the arches and curtains of vibrating luminosity rose and spread
across the sky, to slowly fade and yet again spring to glowing life.

The brighter light seemed to flow, now to mass itself in wreathing
folds in one quarter, from which lustrous streamers shot upward, and
anon to run in waves through the system of some dimmer figure as if
to infuse new life within it.

It is impossible to witness such a beautiful phenomenon without a
sense of awe, and yet this sentiment is not inspired by its brilliancy
but rather by its delicacy in light and colour, its transparency, and
above all by its tremulous evanescence of form. There is no glittering
splendour to dazzle the eye, as has been too often described; rather
the appeal is to the imagination by the suggestion of something
wholly spiritual, something instinct with a fluttering ethereal life,
serenely confident yet restlessly mobile.

One wonders why history does not tell us of 'aurora' worshippers, so
easily could the phenomenon be considered the manifestation of 'god'
or 'demon.' To the little silent group which stood at gaze before such
enchantment it seemed profane to return to the mental and physical
atmosphere of our house. Finally when I stepped within, I was glad
to find that there had been a general movement bedwards, and in the
next half-hour the last of the roysterers had succumbed to slumber.

Thus, except for a few bad heads in the morning, ended the High
Festival of Midwinter.

There is little to be said for the artificial uplifting of animal
spirits, yet few could take great exception to so rare an outburst
in a long run of quiet days.

After all we celebrated the birth of a season which for weal or woe
must be numbered amongst the greatest in our lives.

CHAPTER XII

Awaiting the Crozier Party

_Friday, June_ 23--_Saturday, June_ 24.--Two quiet, uneventful days
and a complete return to routine.

_Sunday, June_ 25.--I find I have made no mention of Cherry-Garrard's
first number of the revived _South Polar Times_, presented to me on
Midwinter Day.

It is a very good little volume, bound by Day in a really charming
cover of carved venesta wood and sealskin. The contributors are
anonymous, but I have succeeded in guessing the identity of the
greater number.

The Editor has taken a statistical paper of my own on the plans
for