wish was uttered, many a
handkerchief was waved, and many a tearful eye gazed that day as the
vessel left Old England, and steered her course into the unknown regions
of the far north.

But no cheer ever greeted her return; no bright eyes ever watched her
homeward-bound sails rising on the far-off horizon.

Battered by the storms of the Arctic seas, her sails and cordage
stiffened by the frosts, and her hull rasped and shattered by the ice of
those regions, she was forced on a shore where the green grass has
little chance to grow, where winter reigns nearly all the year round,
where man never sends his merchandise, and never drives his plough.
There the brig was frozen in; there, for two long years, she lay unable
to move, and her starving crew forsook her; there, year after year, she
lay, unknown, unvisited by civilised man, and unless the wild Eskimos
[see note 1] have torn her to pieces, and made spears of her timbers, or
the ice has swept her out to sea and whirled her to destruction, there
she lies still--hard and fast in the ice.

The vessel was lost, but her crew were saved, and most of them returned
to tell their kinsfolk of the wonders and the dangers of the frozen
regions, where God has created some of the most beautiful and some of
the most awful objects that were ever looked on by the eye of man.

What was told by the fireside, long ago, is now recounted in this book.

Imagine a tall, strong man, of about five-and-forty, with short, curly
black hair, just beginning to turn grey; stern black eyes, that look as
if they could pierce into your secret thoughts; a firm mouth, with lines
of good-will and kindness lurking about it; a deeply-browned skin, and a
short, thick beard and moustache. That is a portrait of the commander
of the brig. His name was Harvey. He stood on the deck, close by the
wheel, looking wistfully over the stern. As the vessel bent before the
breeze, and cut swiftly through the water, a female hand was raised
among the gazers on the pier, and a white scarf waved in the breeze. In
the forefront of the throng, and lower down, another hand was raised; it
was a little one, but very vigorous; it whirled a cap round a small head
of curly black hair, and a shrill "hurrah!" came floating out to sea.

The captain kissed his hand and waved his hat in reply; then, wheeling
suddenly round, he shouted, in a voice of thunder:

"Mind your helm, there; let her away a point. Take a pull on these