le--"Auld Lang Syne."

After events of this character, the higher shelves of the kitchen, in
the interstices between thermographs, photographic plates ink bottles,
and Russian stout, abounded with titbits of pie crust, blancmange,
jelly, Vienna rusks, preserved figs, and other "perks." Such "perks," or
perquisites, were the property of the presiding cook or night-watchman
and rarely survived for more than a day.

The mania for celebration became so great that reference was frequently
made to the almanac. During one featureless interval, the anniversary
of the First Lighting of London by Gas was observed with extraordinary
eclat.

The great medium of monetary exchange in the Hut was chocolate. A ration
of thirty squares was distributed by the storeman every Saturday night,
and for purposes of betting, games of chance, "Calcutta sweeps" on the
monthly wind-velocity and general barter, chocolate held the premier
place.

At the "sweeps," the meteorologist stood with a wooden hammer behind the
table, and the gaming public swarmed on the other side. Numbers ranging
from "low field" and forty-five to sixty-five and "high field" were
sold by auction to the highest bidder. Excitement was intense while the
cartographer in clerical glasses worked out the unknown number.

As a consequence of wild speculation, there were several cases of
bankruptcy, which was redeemed in the ordinary way by a sale of the
debtor's effects.

Two financiers, indifferent to the charms of chocolate, established a
corner or "Bank" in the commodity. "The Bank," by barter and usurious
methods, amassed a great heap of well-thumbed squares, and, when
accused of rapacity, invented a scheme for the common good known as
"Huntoylette." This was a game of chance similar to roulette, and for
a while it completely gulfed the trusting public. In the reaction which
followed, there was a rush on "The Bank," and the concern was wound up,
but the promoters escaped with a large profit in candles and chocolate.

Throughout the winter months, work went on steadily even after dinner,
and hours of leisure were easy to fill. Some wrote up their diaries,
played games, or smoked and yarned; others read, developed photos, or
imitated the weary cook and went to bed. The MacKellar Library, so
called after the donor, was a boon to all, and the literature of polar
exploration was keenly followed and discussed. Taste in literature
varied, but among a throng of eighteen, the ma