to our encampment—on the pitch of a flat cape—in lat. 68° 37′ N., long. 108° 58′ W. This spot I named Cape Franklin, as a tribute of respect, from a perfect stranger, to that enterprising and justly celebrated officer. Land, twenty or twenty-five miles off, high, and covered with snow, stretched from west to north-east, and raised apprehensions that we were entering a deep inlet or sound.
We had no sooner turned Cape Franklin on the 21st than we came in view of a very distant hill, bearing N. 82° E., which I rightly conjectured to stand not far back from the coast. The latter is remarkably straight; but the walking was very fatiguing, the shore consisting chiefly of soft, wet sands, traversed by a multitude of brooks. These descend from a range of low, stony hills, which, at the distance of two or three miles, close the inland view, and were partially clothed with moss and scanty herbage. The ice was everywhere grounded on the shore; but the weather had by this time improved, and continued so clear and moderate during the rest of the outward journey, that I daily obtained astronomical observations. A flight of white geese passed us, led on, or officered, by three large grey ones (anser Canadensis). Numerous flocks of these fowl were luxuriating in the fine feeding
