lready know, I have burnt it all, except those last lines.

At distant intervals, we heard twice of the exploring ship, from whaling
vessels. Then, there was a long dreary interval, without news of any
sort. Then, a dreadful report that the expedition was lost. Then, the
confirmation of the report--a lapse of a whole year, and no tidings of
the missing men.

They were well provided with supplies of all kinds; and there was a
general hope that they might be holding out. A new expedition was
sent--and sent vainly--in search of them overland. Rewards were offered
to whaling vessels to find them, and were never earned. We wore mourning
for Nugent; we were a melancholy household. Two more years passed--before
the fate of the expedition was discovered. A ship in the whale trade,
driven out of her course, fell in with a wrecked and dismantled vessel,
lost in the ice. Let the last sentences of the captain's report tell the
story.

"The wreck was drifting along a channel of open water, when we first
saw it. Before long, it was brought up by an iceberg. I got into my boat
with some of my sailors, and we rowed to the vessel.

"Not a man was to be seen on the deck, which was covered with snow. We
hailed, and got no reply. I looked in through one of the circular glazed
port-holes astern, and saw dimly the figure of a man seated at a table. I
knocked on the thick glass, but he never moved. We got on deck, and
opened the cabin hatchway, and went below. The man I had seen was before
us, at the end of the cabin. I led the way, and spoke to him. He made no
answer. I looked closer, and touched one of his hands which lay on the
table. To my horror and astonishment, he was a frozen corpse.

"On the table before him was the last entry in the ship's log!

"'Seventeen days since we have been shut up in the ice: Our fire went
out yesterday. The captain tried to light it again, and has failed. The
surgeon and two seamen died of cold this morning. The rest of us must
soon follow. If we are ever discovered, I beg the person who finds me to
send this----'

"There the hand that held the pen had dropped into the writer's lap. The
left hand still lay on the table. Between the frozen fingers, we found a
long lock of a woman's hair, tied at each end with a blue ribbon. The
open eyes of the corpse were still fixed on the lock of hair.

"The name of this man was found in his pocket-book. It was Nugent
Dubourg. I publish the name in my report, in c