good thing when the weather is
bad, as one is not tempted to stay in the bag all the time.

Early in the afternoon as we were all feeling hungry and had been in
bags long enough to feel cold, although the weather was quite warm (10
degrees F.), we rolled bags, and, when our frozen burberrys were once
fairly on, quite enjoyed ourselves. After a boil-up and a few minutes'
"run" round in the drift and wind, we did some stitching on our light
drill tent, which was making very heavy weather of it, although pitched
close under the lee of Murphy's strong japara tent. A little reading,
some shouted unintelligible conversation with the other tent, another
boil-up, and, last but not least, a smoke, found us quite ready for
another sleep.

Next day (November 13), the wind having dropped to thirty-five miles
per hour, we set out about 11 A.M. in light drift. The sky was still
overcast, so the light was very trying. In the worst fogs at home one
can at any rate see something of the ground on which one is treading;
in Adelie Land, even when the air was clear of snow, it was easy to bump
against a four-foot sastruga without seeing it. It always reminded me
most of a fog at sea: a ship creeping "o'er the hueless, viewless deep."

When 6 P.M. arrived we had only covered five and a half miles, but
were all thoroughly exhausted and glad to camp. Lunch had been rather
barbarously served in the lee of the sledge. First came plasmon biscuit,
broken with the ice-axe into pieces small enough to go into the mouth
through the funnel of a burberry helmet; then followed two ounces of
chocolate, frozen rather too hard to have a definite taste; and finally
a luscious morsel--two ounces of butter, lovingly thawed-out in the
mouth to get the full flavour. Lunches like these in wind and drift are
uncomfortable enough for every one to be eager to start again as soon as
possible.

By nine o'clock that night the wind had increased to a full gale. We
were in camp all the 14th and the 15th, the wind rising to eighty-five
miles per hour with very heavy drift during the small hours of the 15th.
This was its maximum, and by the afternoon it was down to about seventy
miles per hour with a clear sky and light drift. We donned our burberrys
(I should like to give Hurley's "Ode to a Frozen Burberry") and dug out
our sledges, both of which were completely buried in a ramp forty yards
long; the shovel projecting nine inches above the surface.

While we were en