e entrenches himself behind these ponderous folios,
and keeps up a hot fire of terrific Dutch polysyllables until we are
ready to make an unconditional surrender. If we venture to suggest
a doubt as to the intimacy of the connection between a whale's
blow-holes and the _History of the World_, he comes down upon us with
the most withering denunciations as wrongheaded sceptics who won't
even believe what is _printed_--and in a Dutch history too! As the
captain dispenses the pie, however, at dinner, I have found it
advisable to smother my convictions as to the veracity of his Teutonic
historian, and join him in denouncing that pernicious heretic Bush,
who is wise beyond what is written. Result--Bush gets only one small
piece of pie, and I get two, which of course is highly gratifying
to my feelings, as well as advantageous to the dispersion of sound
historical learning!

I begin to observe at dinner an increasing reverence on Bush's part
for Dutch histories.

[Illustration: Snow Scrapers]

CHAPTER III

THE PICTURESQUE COAST OP KAMCHATKA--ARRIVAL IN PETROPAVLOVSK

BRIG "OLGA," AT SEA, 200 MILES FROM KAMCHATKA.
_August 17, 1865._

Our voyage is at last drawing to a close, and after seven long weeks
of cold, rainy, rough weather our eyes are soon to be gladdened again
by the sight of land, and never was it more welcome to weary mariner
than it will be to us. Even as I write, the sound of scraping and
scrubbing is heard on deck, and proclaims our nearness to land. They
are dressing the vessel to go once more into society. We were only 255
miles from the Kamchatkan seaport of Petropavlovsk (pet-ro-pav'-lovsk)
last night, and if this favourable breeze holds we expect to reach
there to-morrow noon. It has fallen almost to a dead calm, however,
this morning, so that we may be delayed until Saturday.

AT SEA, OFF THE COAST OF KAMCHATKA.
_Friday, August 18, 1865._

We have a fine breeze this morning; and the brig, under every stitch
of canvas that will draw, is staggering through the seas enveloped in
a dense fog, through which even her topgallant sails show mistily.
Should the wind continue and the fog be dissipated we may hope to see
land tonight.

11 A.M.

I have just come down from the topgallant yard, where for the last
three hours I have been clinging uncomfortably to the backstays,
watching for land, and swinging back and forth through the fog in the
arc of a great circle as the vessel rolled