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In the boats there were many well-dressed ladies; in one boat, in particular, there were five females frantically waving their handkerchiefs to the sailors.

Then Tromsö receded into the background, and will soon be nothing to us but a memory, a vision looked back to with regret.

Sunday passed without any incident. On Monday night we fell in with the first icebergs, and progress became more difficult.

DANSK-GATT.

June 16th, noon.—Since the morning we have been running along the coast of Spitzbergen, my future home, the place of my temporary exile. The progress of the boat is slow and perilous, in the midst of floating ice-blocks, which threaten to crush us at every moment. It requires all the experience of the captain and all the vigilance of the man at the wheel to avoid a catastrophe.

The ice pilot is on the look-out in the rigging, and indicates by signal the open channels.

We have seen a large number of birds, whales throwing up an immense stream of water, seals, etc. Three of these animals were disporting themselves on an ice-floe within gunshot. They were at once saluted by a discharge of guns, which did not hit them.