. But it is not the mild zephyr we
yearn for, not the breath of the blushing dawn. No, a cold, biting
south wind, roaring with all the force of the Polar Sea, so that
the Fram, the two-year-old Fram, may be buried in the snow-storm,
and all around her be but a reeking frost--it is this we are waiting
for, this that will drift us onward to our goal. To-day, then, Fram,
thou art two years old. I said at the dinner-table that if a year
ago we were unanimous in believing that the Fram was a good ship,
we had much better grounds for that belief to-day, for safely and
surely she is carrying us onward, even if the speed be not excessive,
and so we drank the Fram's good health and good progress. I did not
say too much. Had I said all that was in my heart, my words would not
have been so measured; for, to say the truth, we all of us dearly love
the ship, as much as it is possible to love any impersonal thing. And
why should we not love her? No mother can give her young more warmth
and safety under her wings than she affords to us. She is indeed
like a home to us. We all rejoice to return to her from out on the
icy plains, and when I have been far away and have seen her masts
rising over the everlasting mantle of snow, how often has my heart
glowed with warmth towards her! To the builder of this home grateful
thoughts often travel during the still nights. He, I feel certain,
sits yonder at home often thinking of us; but he knows not where
his thought can seek the Fram in the great white tract around the
Pole. But he knows his child; and though all else lose faith in her,
he will believe that she will hold out. Yes, Colin Archer, could you
see us now, you would know that your faith in her is not misplaced.

"I am sitting alone in my berth, and my thoughts glide back over the
two years that have passed. What demon is it that weaves the threads
of our lives, that makes us deceive ourselves, and ever sends us forth
on paths we have not ourselves laid out--paths on which we have no
desire to walk? Was it a mere feeling of duty that impelled me? Oh
no! I was simply a child yearning for a great adventure out in the
unknown, who had dreamed of it so long that at last I believed it
really awaited me. And it has, indeed, fallen to my lot, the great
adventure of the ice, deep and pure as infinity; the silent, starlit
polar night; nature itself in its profundity; the mystery of life;
the ceaseless circling of the universe; the feast of death