and restoring us to the light of day. I now discovered that we were in the mouth of a semi-circular bay, four miles in diameter, which I named after Chief Factor Roderick Mackenzie. It was soon traversed; and its depth midway was found to be one and a half fathoms, on a sandy bottom. The coast then trended W.N.W., exhibiting a dismal succession of frozen mud-banks, varying from ten to fifteen feet high. We had not gone far when we came to a compact body of ice, extending beyond the reach of vision. Carrying our light vessel across a corner of this barrier, we pursued our way through the little channels between it and the shore. It was now calm; the ducks flew westward in immensely long files, and young ice had formed on every open space,—a timely warning to travellers who adventure far into these regions of frost. But we were fast approaching the goal that was to crown our enterprise, and disregarded all impediments. Seven miles beyond Point Scott we crossed the mouth of a fine deep river, a quarter of a mile wide, which I called the Bellevue. Landing beyond it I saw, with indescribable emotions, Point Barrow, stretching out to the northward, and enclosing Elson Bay, near the bottom of which we now were.
The sun was just reappearing, a little before
