Our only safety was in flight; and like a ship driven before a tempest which she cannot withstand, and which has threatened her ruin, we turned our backs to the gale; and, hastening down the slope, we ran to save our lives.
We traveled upwards of forty miles, and had descended about three thousand feet before we ventured to halt. The wind was much less severe at this point than at the higher level, and the temperature had risen twelve degrees. Although we reposed without risk, yet our canvas shelter was very cold; and, notwithstanding the reduced force of the gale, there was some difficulty in keeping the tent from being blown away.
We reached Port Foulke the next evening, after a toilsome march, without having suffered any serious accident.
JOURNEYING BY MOONLIGHT The latter part of the journey was made wholly by moonlight. The air was found to be quite calm when we reached the base of the glacier; and the journey down its lower face, and through the gorge, and over the valley, and across Alida Lake and the Fiord, was made in the presence of a scene which was very impressive. Sheets of drifting snow swept over the white-crested hills like insubstantial spirits flitting wildly through the night. These told that the gale yet howled above; but in our lowly shelter the air was still as a cave in the midst of winds. No cloud obscured the broad archway of the skies. The gentle stars, robed in the drapery of night, rejoiced to behold their forms in the smooth mirror of the lake. The glacier threw back the chilly moonbeams. The shadows of the dark cliffs stole into the flood of light which filled the valley. The white Fiord, dotted with
