The ponies are getting buckish. Chinaman squeals and kicks in the stable, Nobby kicks without squealing, but with even more purpose—last night he knocked down a part of his stall. The noise of these animals is rather trying at night—one imagines all sorts of dreadful things happening, but when the watchman visits the stables its occupants blink at him with a sleepy air as though the disturbance could not possibly have been there!
There was a glorious northern sky to-day; the horizon was clear and the flood of red light illuminated the under side of the broken stratus cloud above, producing very beautiful bands of violet light. Simpson predicts a blizzard within twenty-four hours—we are interested to watch results.
Tuesday, August 1.—The month has opened with a very beautiful day. This morning I took a circuitous walk over our land 'estate,' winding to and fro in gulleys filled with smooth ice patches or loose sandy soil, with a twofold object. I thought I might find the remains of poor Julick—in this I was unsuccessful; but I wished further to test our new crampons, and with these I am immensely pleased—they possess every virtue in a footwear designed for marching over smooth ice—lightness, warmth, comfort, and ease in the putting on and off.
The light was especially good to-day; the sun was directly reflected by a single twisted iridescent cloud in the north, a brilliant and most beautiful object. The air was still, and it was very pleasant to hear the crisp sounds of our workers abroad. The tones of voices, the swish of ski, or the chipping of an ice pick carry two or three miles
