ificent
desolation about us. Even on the march, with loaded sledges and tugging
dogs to engage attention, unconsciously one finds oneself with wits
wool-gathering and eyes taking in the scene, and suddenly being brought
back to the business of the hour by the fiend-like conduct of his team.

There is an irresistible fascination about the regions of northern-most
Grant Land that is impossible for me to describe. Having no poetry in my
soul, and being somewhat hardened by years of experience in that
inhospitable country, words proper to give you an idea of its unique
beauty do not come to mind. Imagine gorgeous bleakness, beautiful
blankness. It never seems broad, bright day, even in the middle of June,
and the sky has the different effects of the varying hours of morning
and evening twilight from the first to the last peep of day. Early in
February, at noon, a thin band of light appears far to the southward,
heralding the approach of the sun, and daily the twilight lengthens,
until early in March, the sun, a flaming disk of fiery crimson, shows
his distorted image above the horizon. This distorted shape is due to
the mirage caused by the cold, just as heat-waves above the rails on a
railroad-track distort the shape of objects beyond.

The south sides of the lofty peaks have for days reflected the glory of
the coming sun, and it does not require an artist to enjoy the
unexampled splendor of the view. The snows covering the peaks show all
of the colors, variations, and tones of the artist's palette, and more.
Artists have gone with us into the Arctic and I have heard them rave
over the wonderful beauties of the scene, and I have seen them at work
trying to reproduce some of it, with good results but with nothing like
the effect of the original. As Mr. Stokes said, "it is color run riot."

To the northward, all is dark and the brighter stars of the heavens are
still visible, but growing fainter daily with the strengthening of the
sunlight.

When the sun finally gets above the horizon and swings his daily circle,
the color effects grow less and less, but then the sky and cloud-effects
improve and the shadows in the mountains and clefts of the ice show
forth their beauty, cold blues and grays; the bare patches of the land,
rich browns; and the whiteness of the snow is dazzling. At midday, the
optical impression given by one's shadow is of about nine o'clock in the
morning, this due to the altitude of the sun, always giving