e fur-traders of the Far North.

Icicles hung, as they had done for months before, from the eaves of
every house, from the tall black scaffold on which the great bell hung,
and from the still taller erection that had been put up as an outlook
for "_the ship_" in summer. At the present time it commanded a bleak
view of the frozen sea. Snow covered every housetop, and hung in
ponderous masses from their edges, as if it were about to fall; but it
never fell--it hung there in the same position day after day, unmelted,
unchanged. Snow covered the whole land, and the frozen river, the
swamps, the sea-beach, and the sea itself, as far as the eye could
reach, seemed like a pure white carpet. Snow lined the upper edge of
every paling, filled up the key-hole of every door, embanked about half
of every window, stuck in little knobs on the top of every picket, and
clung in masses on every drooping branch of the pine trees in the
forest. Frost--sharp, biting frost--solidified, surrounded, and
pervaded everything. Mercury was congealed by it; vapour was condensed
by it; iron was cooled by it until it could scarcely be touched without
(as the men expressed it) "burning" the fingers. The water-jugs in
Bachelors' Hall and the water-buckets were frozen by it, nearly to the
bottom; though there was a good stove there, and the Hall was not
_usually_ a cold place by any means. The breath of the inhabitants was
congealed by it on the window-panes, until they had become coated with
ice an inch thick. The breath of the men was rendered white and opaque
by it, as they panted and hurried to and fro about their ordinary
avocations; beating their gloved hands together, and stamping their
well-wrapped-up feet on the hard-beaten snow to keep them warm. Old
Robin's nose seemed to be entirely shrivelled up into his face by it, as
he drove his ox-cart to the river to fetch his daily supply of water.
The only things that were not affected by it were the fires, which
crackled and roared as if in laughter, and twisted and leaped as if in
uncontrollable glee at the bare idea of John Frost acquiring, by any
artifice whatever, the smallest possible influence over _them_! Three
months had elapsed, but frost and snow, instead of abating, had gone on
increasing and intensifying, deepening and extending its work, and
riveting its chains. Winter--cold silent, unyielding winter--still
reigned at York Fort, as though it had made it a _sine qua non_ of it