winter of Baffin's Bay, I had experienced symptoms which I compared to the diffused paralysis of the electro-galvanic shock. But I had treated the sleepy comfort of freezing as something like the embellishment of romance. I had evidence now to the contrary.

Bonsall and Morton, two of our stoutest men, came to me begging permission to sleep: "They were not cold; the wind did not enter them now; a little sleep was all they wanted." Presently, Hans was found nearly stiff under a drift, and Thomas, bolt upright, had his eyes closed and could hardly articulate. At last John Blake threw himself on the snow and refused to rise. They did not complain of feeling cold, but it was in vain that I wrestled, boxed, ran, argued, jeered or reprimanded: an immediate halt could not be avoided.

We pitched our tent with much difficulty. Our hands were too powerless to strike a fire; we were obliged to do without water or food. Even the spirits (whiskey) had frozen at the men's feet, under all the coverings. We put Bonsall, Ohlsen, Thomas and Hans, with the other sick men, well inside the tent, and crowded in as many others as we could; then, leaving the party in charge of Mr. McGary, with orders to come on after four hours' rest, I pushed ahead with William Godfrey, who volunteered to be my companion. My aim was to reach the halfway tent and thaw some ice and pemmican before the others arrived. The floe was of level ice and the walking excellent. I cannot tell how long it took us to make the nine miles, for we were in a strange sort of stupor and had little apprehension of time. It was prob

ably about four hours. We kept ourselves awake by imposing on each other a continued articulation of words; they must have been incoherent enough. I recall these hours as among the most wretched I have ever gone through; we were neither of us in our right senses, and retained a very confused recollection of what preceded our arrival at the tent. We both of us, however, remember a bear who walked leisurely before us and tore up, as he went, a jumper that Mr. McGary had improvidently thrown off the day before. He tore it into shreds and rolled it into a ball, but never offered to interfere with our progress. I remember this, and with it a confused sentiment that our tent and buffalo-robes might probably share the same fate. Godfrey had a better eye than myself, and, looking some miles ahead, he could see that our tent was undergoing the same unceremonious treatment. I thought I saw it too, but we were so drunken with cold that we strode on steadily, and, for aught I know, without quickening our pace.

Probably our approach saved the contents of the tent; for when we reached it, the tent was uninjured, though the bear had overturned it, tossing the buffalo-robes and pemmican into the snow. We missed only a couple of blanket-bags. What we recollect, however-and perhaps all we recollect -is that we had great difficulty in raising it. We crawled into our reindeer sleeping-bags without speaking, and for the next three hours slept on in a dreamy but intense slumber. When I awoke, my long beard was a mass of ice, frozen fast to the buffaloskin; Godfrey had to cut me out with his jack-knife. Four days after our escape I

found my woollen comfortable with a goodly share of my beard still adhering to it.

We were able to melt water and get some soup cooked before the rest of our party arrived; it took them but five hours to walk the nine miles. They were doing well, and, considering the circumstances, in wonderful spirits. The day was, most providentially, windless, with a clear sun. All enjoyed the refreshment we had got ready; the crippled were repacked in their robes, and we sped briskly toward the hummock-ridges which lay between us and the Pinnacly Berg.

The hummocks we had now to meet came properly under the designation of "squeezed ice." A great chain of bergs stretching from north-west to south-east, moving with the tides, had compressed the surface-floes, and, rearing them up on their edges, produced an area more like the volcanic pedragal of the basin of Mexico than anything else I can compare it to. it to. It required desperate efforts to work our way over it-literally desperate, for our strength failed us anew and we began to lose our self-control. We could not abstain any longer from eating snow; our mouths swelled, and some of us became speechless. Happily, the day was warmed by a clear sunshine, and the thermometer rose to 4° in the shade; otherwise, we must have frozen.

Our halts multiplied, and we fell, half sleeping, on the snow; I could not prevent it. Strange to say, it refreshed us. I ventured upon the experiment myself, making Riley wake me at the end of three minutes, and I felt so much benefited by it that I timed the men in the same way. They sat on the runners of the sledge, fell asleep instantly, and were

forced to wakefulness when their three minutes were out.

By eight in the evening we emerged from the floes. The sight of the Pinnacly Berg revived us. Brandy-an invaluable resource in emergency—had already been served out in tablespoonful doses. We now took a longer rest and a last but stouter dram, and reached the brig at 1 P. M.-we believe, without a halt.

I say we believe, and here, perhaps, is the most decided proof of our sufferings: we were quite delirious and had ceased to entertain a sane apprehension of the circumstances about us. We moved on like men in a dream. Our footmarks, seen afterward, showed that we had steered a bee-line for the brig. It must have been by a sort of instinct, for it left no impress on the memory. Bonsall was sent staggering ahead, and reached the brig God knows how, for he had fallen repeatedly at the track-lines; but he delivered with punctilious accuracy the messages I had sent by him to Dr. Hayes. I thought myself the soundest of all, for I went through all the formula of sanity, and can recall the muttering delirium of my comrades when we got back into the cabin of our brig. Yet I have been told since of some speeches-and some orders, too-of mine which I should have remembered for their absurdity if my mind. had retained its balance.

Petersen and Whipple came out to meet us about two miles from the brig. They brought my dog-team, with the restoratives I had sent for by Bonsall. I do not remember their coming. Dr. Hayes entered with judicious energy upon the treatment our condition called for, administering morphine freely, after the usual frictions. He reported

none of our brain-symptoms as serious, referring them properly to the class of those indications of exhausted power which yield to generous diet and rest. Mr. Ohlsen suffered some time from strabismus and blindness; two others underwent amputation of parts of the foot without unpleasant consequences, and two died in spite of all our efforts.

This rescue-party had been out for seventytwo hours. We had halted in all eight hours, half of our number sleeping at a time. We travelled between eighty and ninety miles, most of the way dragging a heavy sledge. The mean temperature of the whole time, including the warmest hours of three days, was at minus 41.2°. We had no water except at our two halts, and were at no time able to intermit vigorous exercise without freezing.

PUB

ELISHA KENT KANE.

THE LIFE OF TERENCE. UBLIUS TERENTIUS AFER was born at Carthage, and was a slave of Terentius Lucanus, a Roman senator, who, perceiving him to have an excellent understanding and a great deal of wit, not only bestowed on him a liberal education, but gave him his freedom in a very early part of his

life.

Our poet was beloved and much esteemed by noblemen of the first rank in the Roman commonwealth, and lived in a state of great intimacy with Scipio Africanus and C. Lælius. He wrote six comedies. When he offered his first play, which was The Andrian, to the ædiles, he was ordered to read it to Acilius, one of the ædiles, the year of

the exhibition of that play. When he arrived at that poet's house, he found him at table; and it is said that our author, being very meanly dressed, was suffered to read the opening of his play seated on a very low stool near the couch of Acilius, but scarce had he repeated a few lines than Acilius invited him to sit down to supper with him; after which, Terence proceeded with his play, and finished it to the no small admiration of Acilius. His six plays were equally admired by the Romans.

To wipe off the aspersion of plagiarism, or, perhaps, to make himself a master of the customs and manners of the Grecians, in order to delineate them the better in his writings, he left Rome in the thirty-fifth year of his age, after having exhibited the six comedies which are now extant; and he never returned Volcatius speaks of his death in the

more.

following manner:

"But Terence, having given the town six plays,
Voyaged for Asia; but when once embarked,
Was ne'er seen afterward. He died at sea."

He is said to have been of middle stature, genteel and of a swarthy complexion. He left a daughter, who was afterward married to a Roman knight; and at the time of his death he was possessed of an house, together with a garden containing six acres of land, on the Appian Way, close by the Villa Martis. C. Cæsar speaks of Terence thus :

Joining in consultation to apply

Relief to the misfortune that has fallen
On me, my mistress and her daughter, all
Would not avail. Ah me! so many trou-
bles

But why do I delay to tell my mistress This heavy news as soon as possible?

(Going.)

Sos. Let's call him back. Ho, Geta! CAN. Whosoe'er

Sos. I am Sostrata.

GETA. Where, where is Sostrata? (Turns about.) I sought you, madam— Impatiently I sought you-and am glad To have encountered you thus readily. Sos. What is the matter? Why d'ye tremble thus?