the plains between the British chain of mountains and Beaufort Bay browsed numerous herds of reindeer. Farther on stood a camp of Esquimaux, who, after shouting to us, pushed off in their kayaks; but the fast sailing of our boats, and our disinclination to sacrifice the favourable wind, prevented any communication with them. The weather was cold and dark, and heavy masses of clouds were hurrying rapidly towards the west. The mountains were almost hidden from view; but ever and anon their snow-capped summits glared portentously through the cloudy canopy, whose vagueness strangely magnified their height. We supped at Point Humphreys' and proceeded on till midnight, when our career was arrested, at some distance from land, by ice adhering to Point Griffin, and extending in every direction beyond the reach of vision. With considerable difficulty we reached the shore at 2 a.m. of the 16th, and encamped.
It was high-water at noon, the rise being nine and a half inches. This insignificant tide did us good service, in opening a lane along the shore, into which we immediately launched. It blew freshly from the east, and we ran among the ice at a great rate, keeping of course a sharp lookout in our bows. The narrow, crooked openings drew us out two miles to seaward, and at length
