elings in their breasts that some of them almost choked in
the attempt to cheer. Then came songs and stories--all of them old,
very old indeed--but they came out on this occasion as good as new. The
great event of the evening, however, was a fancy ball, in which our
friends Butts, Baker, Gregory, and Pepper distinguished themselves.
They had a fiddle, and Dawkins the steward could play it. He knew
nothing but Scotch reels; but what could have been better? They could
all dance, or, if they could not, they all tried. Myouk and Meetek were
made to join and they capered as gracefully as polar bears, which
animals they strongly resembled in their hairy garments. Late in the
evening came supper. It was just a repetition of dinner, with the
remains of the pudding fried in bear's grease.

Thus passed Christmas-Day; much in the same way passed New Year's Day.
Then the men settled down to their old style of life; but the time hung
so heavy on their hands that their spirits began to sink again. The
long darkness became intolerable and the fresh meat began to fail.
Everything with life seemed to have forsaken the place. The captain
made another trip to the Eskimo village and found the huts empty--the
whole race had flown, he knew not whither! The private theatricals were
at first very successful; but by degrees they lost their interest and
were given up. Then a school was started and Gregory became head
master. Writing and arithmetic were the only branches taught. Some of
the men were much in need of instruction, and all of them took to the
school with energy and much delight. It lasted longer than the
theatricals did. As time wore on the fresh meat was finished, scurvy
became worse; and it was as much as the men who were not quite knocked
down could do to attend to those who were. Day after day Tom and
Gregory and Sam Baker went out to hunt, and each day returned
empty-handed. Sometimes an Arctic hare or a fox was got; but not often.
At last rats were eaten as food. These creatures swarmed in the hold
of the brig. They were caught in traps and shot with a bow and a
blunt-headed arrow. But few of the men would eat them. The captain
urged them to do so in vain. Those who did eat kept in better health
than those who did not.

At last death came. Mr Mansell sank beneath the terrible disease and
was buried on the island. No grave could be dug in that hard frozen
soil. The burial service was read by his sorrowi