A CHEERFUL DAY. Sunday, on which day, even in this remote corner of the world, everybody puts on his best, and at Sunday morning muster my people present a very neat and creditable appearance. The gray uniform which I have adopted as a dress-suit is always worn on that occasion, both by officers and men. Each officer has a sailor for a "washerwoman," and I have mine; and Knorr has just brought me in the most encouraging accounts of his skill, and as a proof of it I found on my table, when I came in out of the moonlight from a tramp to the open water, (where I had been making some observations for temperature,) a well-starched and neatly ironed cambric handkerchief, sprinkled with cologne.
The day, for some reason or other, seems to have been peculiarly bright and cheerful to everybody, and the cheerfulness runs on into the evening. I fancy that our old cook was in a more than usually good humor, and doubtless this has had something to do with it. For my own part, I must acknowledge the power of his artistic skill as affecting the moral sentiments. My walk to the open water was both cold and fatiguing. Desiring to get out as far as I could, I sprang over the loose ice-tables, and reached an iceberg near "The Twins," which I mounted; and, after digging a hole into it, found that it had a temperature only 8° lower than the temperature of the water that floated it, which was 29°. I scrambled back to the fast ice as quickly as I could, for the tide and wind, which was strong from the land, looked very much as if they intended to carry the raft out to sea.
To come back to the cook,—I was in a condition upon my return to do ample justice to a fillet of veni-
