ew dust comes in its place, and the
next wind takes it too. Truth? Why should we always make so much of
truth? Life is more than cold truth, and we live but once.

"Tuesday, December 26th. 36 deg. Fahr. below zero (-38 deg. C.). This (the
same as yesterday's) is the greatest cold we have had yet. I went
a long way north to-day; found a big lane covered with newly frozen
ice, with a quite open piece of water in the middle. The ice rocked
up and down under my steps, sending waves out into the open pool. It
was strange once more to see the moonlight playing on the coal-black
waves, and awakened a remembrance of well-known scenes. I followed
this lane far to the north, seemed to see the outlines of high land
in the hazy light below the moon, and went on and on; but in the end
it turned out to be a bank of clouds behind the moonlit vapor rising
from the open water. I saw from a high hummock that this opening
stretched north as far as the eye could reach.

"The same luxurious living as yesterday; a dinner of four
courses. Shooting with darts at a target for cigarettes has been the
great excitement of the day. Darts and target are Johansen's Christmas
present from Miss Fougner.

"Wednesday, December 27th. Wind began to blow this afternoon, 19 1/2 to
26 feet per second; the windmill is going again, and the arc lamp once
more brightens our lives. Johansen gave notice of 'a shooting-match
by electric light, with free concert,' for the evening. It was a
pity for himself that he did, for he and several others were shot
into bankruptcy and beggary, and had to retire one after the other,
leaving their cigarettes behind them."

"Thursday, December 28th. A little forward of the Fram there is a
broad, newly formed open lane, in which she could lie crossways. It
was covered with last night's ice, in which slight pressure began
to-day. It is strange how indifferent we are to this pressure,
which was the cause of such great trouble to many earlier Arctic
navigators. We have not so much as made the smallest preparation
for possible accident, no provisions on deck, no tent, no clothing
in readiness. This may seem like recklessness, but in reality there
is not the slightest prospect of the pressure harming us; we know
now what the Fram can bear. Proud of our splendid, strong ship, we
stand on her deck watching the ice come hurtling against her sides,
being crushed and broken there and having to go down below her,
while new ice-masses tum