ugh
it without knowin'.

"In th' arly days whin an explorer wint off to find th' Pole, he
bought himsilf a sheepskin coat, a couple iv dogs, a pair iv skates,
an' a bottle iv pickled onions an' set out bravely, an' th' people
watched th' fam'ly to see what other form th' lunacy wud take.
Afther awhile he ayether come back or he didn't. Sometimes th'
Esqueemo lady didn't care to lave her pleasant home in th' land
iv perpetchool blubber an' in that case th' hardy mariner remained
in th' frozen north. I niver cud see th' advantages iv life in
th' Artic regions. 'Tis thrue th' nights is six months long an'
sleep is wan iv th' spoorts that age hasn't deprived me iv. It
mus' be a gr-reat counthry f'r burglars. But f'r a plain wurrukin'
man it's very thryin'. Think iv a six months' wurrukin' day. Ye
get ye'er breakfast at sun-up in March an' ye don't set down to
dinner till th' first iv June. Thin comes a long afthernoon an'
I tell ye whin th' whistle blows at six o'clock October, it's a
welcome sound it sinds to ye'er ears. Ye go home an' all th'
childher has growed up an' th' news in th' mornin' pa-per is six
months' old. Ye lie around readin' an' playin' cards f'r a month
or two an' thin ye yawn an' set th' alarm clock f'r March an' says:
'Mah, it's th' fifteenth iv Novimber an' time th' childher was
abed,' an' go to sleep. About Christmas th' good woman wakes ye
up to look f'r th' burglar an' afther ye've paddled around in th'
ice floe f'r a week, ye climb back into bed grumblin' an' go to
sleep again. Afther awhile ye snore an' th' wife iv ye'er bosom
punches ye. 'What time is it?' says ye. 'It's a quarther past
th' fifteenth iv Janooary,' says she, 'an' that siren iv ye'ers
has been goin' since New Year's day.' At March ye ar-re aroused
be th' alarm clock an' ye go out to feed th' seals an' I tell ye,
ye need a shave. It mus' be a quare sinsation to wake up in th'
mornin' an' find that th' kid ye tucked into bed th' night befure
has grown side-whiskers in his sleep an' his feet has pushed out
th' foot iv th' cradle. Not f'r my money, Hinnissy. Th' Artic
regions f'r thim that likes thim but give me a land where ye don't
tell th' time iv day be th' almynac.

"But other people is diff'rent. Th' boldest Artic explorer is a
man that's made his money out iv sellin' base-burnin' stoves an'
has chillblains in July. Such a man is niver continted till he's
started somebody off f'r th' northest north. An' he