Although the undaunted courage and indomitable perseverance of the great navigators whom I have named in the preceding chapters had gradually circumscribed the bounds of discovery, and no vast ocean remained to be explored by some future Cook or Magellan, yet at the beginning of this century many secrets of the sea still remained unrevealed to man.

The north coast of America and the Arctic Ocean beyond were still plunged in mysterious darkness; and although Cook in several places had advanced far into the Antarctic seas, yet here also a wide field still lay open to the adventurous seaman.

Many coasts, many groups of islands scattered over the vast bosom of the ocean, awaited a more accurate survey, and would no doubt have remained unexplored, if gold, as in former times, had still been the sole magnet which attracted the seafarer to distant parts of the world. But fortunately science had now become a power which induced man, without any prospect of immediate profit, to spare no expense and to shrink from no danger, that he might become better and better acquainted with his dwelling-place the earth.

It cannot be denied that our century has laboured at the solution of all these various geographical questions with an energy and perseverance unexampled in the history of civilisation; and the prominent part she has taken in their investigation is undoubtedly one of the great glories of England. At no other time have more voyages of discovery and more scientific expeditions been undertaken; never have more courageous Argonauts gone forth to conquer the golden fleece of knowledge. It will be the pleasing task of this closing chapter to follow these noble mariners in their adventurous course; and, to avoid confusion, I shall begin with a short history of Arctic discovery up to the present day, and afterwards treat of the efforts made to extend our knowledge towards the South Pole. In spite of the unsuccessful efforts of a Frobisher, a Davis, a Hudson, and a Baffin, England had never given up the hope of discovering a northern passage to India, either direct across the Pole, or round the north coast of America. It had been one of the chief objects of Cook's third voyage to find a sea-path from Behring's Straits to Baffin's or Hudson's Bay; and some years before, while the illustrious navigator was busy exploring the Southern Pacific, we see Captain Phipps renewing the old attempt to sail direct to the Pole (1773). But, like his predecessor Hudson, he reached no farther than the northern extremity of Spitzbergen, where his vessel, surrounded by mighty ice-blocks, would have perished but for a timely change of wind. This repulse damped for a time the spirit of discovery; but hope revived again when it became known that Scoresby, on a whaling expedition in the Greenland seas (1806), had attained 81° N. lat. and thus approached the Pole to within 540 miles. No one before him had ever reached so far to the north, and an open sea tempted him mightily to proceed, but as the object of his voyage was strictly commercial, and he himself answerable to the owners of his vessel, Scoresby felt obliged to sacrifice his inclinations to his duty and to steer again to the south.

During the continental war, England indeed had little leisure to prosecute discoveries in the Arctic Ocean; but not long after the conclusion of peace (1818) two expeditions were sent out for that purpose.

Captain Buchan, with the ships "Dorothea" and "Trent," sailed with instructions to proceed in a direction as due north as might be practicable through the Spitzbergen Sea; but, having after much difficulty gained lat. 80° 34' north in that polar archipelago, he was obliged speedily to withdraw and try his fortune off the western edge of the pack. Here however a tremendous gale, threatening every moment to crush the ships between the large ice-blocks heaving and sinking in the roaring billows, induced the bold experiment of dashing right into the body of the ice; a practice which has been resorted to by whalers in extreme cases, as their only chance of escaping destruction.

"While we were yet a few fathoms from the ice," says Admiral Beechey, the eloquent eye-witness and narrator of the dreadful scene, "we searched with much anxiety for a place that was more open than the general line of the pack, but in vain; all parts appeared to be equally impenetrable, and to present one unbroken line of furious breakers, in which immense pieces of ice were heaving and subsiding with the waves.

"No language, I am convinced, can convey an adequate idea of the terrific grandeur of the effect now produced by the collision of the ice and the tempestuous ocean. The sea violently agitated, and rolling its mountainous waves against an opposing body, is at all times a sublime and awful sight; but when, in addition, it encounters immense masses, which it has set in motion with a violence equal to its own, its effect is prodigiously increased. At one moment it bursts upon these icy fragments, and buries them many feet beneath its wave, and the next, as the buoyancy of the depressed body struggles for reascendency, the water rushes in foaming cataracts over its edges; whilst every individual mass, rocking and labouring in its bed, grinds against and contends with its opponent until one is either split with the shock or upheaved upon the surface of the other. Nor is this collision confined to one particular spot, it is going on as far as the sight can reach; and when, from this convulsive scene below, the eye is turned to the extraordinary appearance of the blink in the sky above, where the unnatural clearness of a calm and silvery atmosphere presents itself bounded by a dark hard line of stormy clouds, such as at this moment lowered over our masts, as if to mark the confines within which the efforts of man would be of no avail, the reader may imagine the sensation of awe which must accompany that of grandeur in the mind of the beholder.

"At this instant, when we were about to put the strength of our little vessel in competition with that of the great icy continent, and when it seemed almost presumption to reckon on the possibility of her surviving the unequal conflict, it was gratifying in the extreme to observe in all our crew the greatest calmness and resolution. If ever the fortitude of seamen was fairly tried, it was on this occasion; and I will not conceal the pride I felt in witnessing the bold and decisive tone in which the orders were issued by the commander of our little vessel (the since so far-famed and lamented Franklin), and the promptitude and steadiness with which they were executed by the crew.

"We were now so near the scene of danger as to render necessary the immediate execution of our plan, and in an instant the labouring vessel flew before the gale. Each person instinctively secured his own hold and with his eyes fixed upon the masts, awaited in breathless anxiety the moment of concussion. It soon arrived; the brig, cutting her way through the light ice, came in violent contact with the main body. In an instant we all lost our footing, the masts bent with the impetus, and the cracking timbers from below bespoke a pressure which was calculated to awaken our serious apprehensions. The vessel staggered under the shock, and for a moment seemed to recoil; but the next wave, curling up under her counter, drove her about her own length within the margin of the ice, where she gave one roll and was immediately thrown broadside to the wind by the succeeding wave. This unfortunate occurrence prevented the vessel from penetrating sufficiently far into the ice to escape the effect of the gale, and placed her in a situation where she was assailed on all sides by battering rams, if I may use the expression, every one of which contested the small space, which she occupied, and dealt such unrelenting blows that there appeared to be scarcely any possibility of saving her from foundering. Literally tossed from piece to piece, we had nothing left but patiently to abide the issue, for we could scarcely keep our feet, much less render any assistance to the vessel. The motion indeed was so great, that the ship's bell, which in the heaviest gale of wind had never struck of itself, now tolled so continually that it was ordered to be muffled, for the purpose of escaping the unpleasant association it was calculated to produce."

By setting more head-sail, though at the risk of the masts, already tottering with the pressure of that which was spread, the vessels, splitting the ice and thus effecting a passage between the pieces, were at length released from their perilous situation, but the "Dorothea" was found to be completely disabled. A short time at Fairhaven in Spitsbergen was spent in necessary repairs, and even then she was unfit for any farther service than the voyage to England. Franklin volunteered to prosecute the enterprise with the "Trent" alone, but the Admiralty Orders opposed such a proceeding, and the vessels returned home in company.

Meanwhile Captain John Ross, with the "Isabella" and "Alexander," had proceeded to Baffin's Bay, but instead of exploring Smith's, Jones's, and Lancaster Sounds, which recent voyages have proved to be each and all grand open channels to the Polar Sea, he contented himself with Baffin's assertion that they were enclosed by land, and, after having thus fruitlessly accomplished the circuit of the bay, returned to England.

With Parry's first expedition, which took place in the following year (1819), the epoch of modern discoveries in the Arctic Ocean, may properly be said to begin. Sailing right through Lancaster Sound, he discovered Prince Regent Inlet, Wellington Channel, and Melville Island. Willingly would he have proceeded farther to the west, but the ice was now rapidly gathering, the vessels were soon beset, and, after getting free with great difficulty, Parry was only too glad to turn back, and settle down in Winter Harbour. It was no easy task to attain this dreary port, as a canal two miles and a third in length had first to be cut through solid ice of seven inches average thickness, yet such was the energy of that splendid expedition, that the Herculean labour was accomplished in three days. The two vessels were immediately put in winter trim, the decks housed over, heating apparatus arranged, and everything done to make the ten months' imprisonment in those Arctic solitudes as comfortable as possible.

It was not before the 1st of August that the ships were able to leave Winter Harbour, when Parry once more stood boldly for the west, but no amount of skill or patience could penetrate the obstinate masses of ice, or insure the safety of the vessels under the repeated shocks they sustained. Finding the barriers absolutely invincible he gave way, and, steering homeward, reached London on Nov. 3, 1820, where, as may well be imagined, his reception was most enthusiastic and cordial.

While this wonderful voyage was performing, Franklin, Richardson, and Back, with two English sailors and a troop of Canadians and Indians, were penetrating by land to the mouth of the Coppermine River, whence they intended to make a boat-voyage of discovery along the coasts of the Icy Ocean. An idea of the difficulties of this undertaking may be formed, when I mention that the travellers started from Fort York, in Hudson's Bay, on the 30th of August, 1819, and after a voyage of 700 miles up the Saskatchewan, reached Fort Cumberland, where they spent the first winter. The next found them 700 miles further on their journey, established during the extreme cold at Fort Enterprise. During the summer of 1821 they accomplished the remaining 334 miles, and on the 21st of July commenced their exploration of the Polar Sea in two birch-bark canoes. In these frail shallops they skirted the desolate coast of the American continent, 555 miles to the east of the Coppermine, as far as Point Turnagain, when the rapid decrease of their provisions and the shattered state of the canoes imperatively compelled their return. And now began a dreadful land-journey of two months, accompanied by all the horrors of famine. A lichen, called by the Canadians tripe de roche (rock-tripe), afforded them for some time a wretched subsistence, and, that failing, they were glad to satisfy their hunger with scraps of roasted leather or burnt bones, from prey which the wolves might have abandoned. On reaching the Coppermine a raft had to be framed, a task accomplished with the utmost difficulty by the exhausted party. One or two of the Canadians had already fallen behind, and never rejoined their comrades, and now three or four sank down, and could proceed no farther. Back, with the most vigorous of the men, had already pushed on to send help from Fort Enterprise; and Richardson, Hood, and Hepburn volunteered to remain with the disabled men, near a supply of the rock-tripe, while Franklin pursued his journey with the others capable of bearing him company. On reaching Fort Enterprise this last party found that wretched tenement completely deserted, and a note from Back stating that he had gone in pursuit of the Indians. Some cast-off deer-skins and a heap of bones, provisions worthy of the place, sustained their flickering life-flame, and after eighteen miserable days, they were joined in their dreary quarters by Richardson and Hepburn, the sole survivors of their party. At length, when on the point of sinking under their sufferings, three Indians sent by Back brought them timely succour. After a while they were able to join this valuable friend, and the following year brought them safely back to England.

I pass over Parry's second and third voyages, undertaken in the years 1821 and 1824, which were consumed in fruitless endeavours to penetrate westward; the first through some unknown channel to the north of Hudson's Bay, the second through Prince Regent's Inlet; but his last attempt to reach the North Pole, by boat and sledge-travelling over the ice, is of too novel and daring a character to remain unnoticed. His hopes of success were founded on Scoresby's descriptions, who had seen ice-fields so free from either fissure or hummock, that, had they not been covered with snow, a coach might have been driven many leagues over them in a direct line, without obstruction or danger; but when Parry reached the ice-fields to the north of Spitzbergen he found them of a very different nature, composed of loose rugged masses, which rendered travelling over them extremely irksome and slow.

The strong flat-bottomed boats—amphibious constructions, half sledge, half canoe,—expressly built for an amphibious journey over a region where solid ice was expected to alternate with pools of water, had thus frequently to be unloaded, in order to be raised over the intervening blocks or mounds, and repeated journeys backward and forward over the same ground were the necessary consequences. In some places the ice took the form of sharp pointed crystals, which cut the boots like penknives; in others, sixteen or eighteen inches of soft snow made the work of boat-dragging both fatiguing and tedious. Sometimes the men were obliged, in dragging the boats, to crawl on all-fours, to make any progress at all, and one day, when heavy rain melted the surface of the ice, four hours of vigorous effort accomplished only half a mile.

Yet in spite of all these obstacles they toiled cheerfully on and on, until at length the discovery was made, that while they were apparently advancing towards the Pole, the ice-field on which they journeyed was moving to the south, and thus rendering all their exertions fruitless. Yet though disappointed in his great hope of planting his country's standard on that unattainable goal, Parry had the glory of reaching the highest latitude (82° 45') ever attained by man.

Before this adventurous voyage, Franklin, Richardson, and Back, forgetful of their long life and death struggle with famine (1819), had once more (1825) with heroic perseverance bent their steps to the north. This time they chose the mouths of the Mackenzie for the starting-point of their discoveries, and having separated into two parties, proceeded to the east and west, and explored 4000 miles of unknown coast.

In 1829 Captain John Ross, having for a long time vainly solicited government to send him out once more on an Arctic expedition, was enabled by the munificence of a private individual, Mr. Felix Booth, to accomplish his wishes, and to purchase a small steamer, to which the rather presumptuous name of "Victory" was given. The selection of the vessel was no doubt unlucky enough: for can anything be conceived more unpractical than paddle-boxes among ice-blocks; but, to make amends for this error, the veteran commander was fortunate in being accompanied by his illustrious nephew, James Ross, who with every quality of the seaman united the ardour and knowledge of the most zealous naturalist.

He it was who discovered the peninsula which in compliment to the patron of the expedition was named Boothia Felix; to him also we owe the discovery of the Magnetic Pole; but the voyage is far less remarkable for these after all not very important successes, than for its unexampled protraction during a space of five years.

The first season had a fortunate termination. On the 10th of August, 1829, the "Victory" attained Prince Regent's Inlet, and reached on the 13th the spot where Parry on his third voyage had been obliged to abandon the "Fury." Of the ship itself no traces remained; but the provisions which had providently been stored up on land were found untouched. The solid tin boxes had effectually preserved them from the voracity of the white bears; and the flour, bread, wine, rum, and sugar were found as good after four years, as on the day when the expedition started.

It was to this discovery, to this "manna in the wilderness," that Ross owed his subsequent preservation; for how else could he have passed four winters in the Arctic waste? Never was the hand of Providence more distinctly visible than here.

On the 15th of August Cape Garry was attained, the most southern point of the inlet which Parry had reached on his third voyage. Fogs and drift-ice considerably retarded the progress of the expedition; but Ross, though slowly, moved on, so that about the middle of September the map of the northern regions was enriched by some 500 miles of newly discovered coast. But now winter broke in with all its Arctic severity, and the "Victory" was obliged to seek refuge in Felix Harbour, where the useless steam-engine was thrown overboard as a nuisance, and the usual preparations made for spending the cold season as agreeably as possible.

The following spring, from the 17th of May to the 13th of June, was employed by James Ross on a sledge journey, which led to the discovery of King William's Sound and King William's Land; and during which that courageous mariner penetrated so far to the west, that he had only ten days' provisions, scantily measured out, for a return voyage of 200 miles through an empty wilderness.

After an imprisonment of full twelve months the "Victory" was set free on the 17th of September, 1830, and proceeded once more on her discoveries. But the period of her liberty was short indeed, short like that of revolted slaves between two despotisms; for, after advancing three miles in one continual battle against the currents and the drift-ice, she again froze fast on the 27th of the same month.

In the following spring we again see the indefatigable James Ross, ever active in the cause of science, extending the circle of his excursions and planting the British flag upon the site of the Northern Magnetic Pole, which, however, is not invariably fixed to one spot, as was then believed, but moves from place to place within the glacial zone.

On the 28th of August, 1831, the "Victory," after a second imprisonment of eleven months, was warped into open water, and, after having spent a whole month to advance four English miles, was again enclosed by the ice on the 27th of September.

But seven miles in two long years! According to this measure, there was but little hope indeed of ever seeing Old England again: the only chance left was to abandon the vessel, and endeavour by means of the boats left among the "Fury's" stores to reach Baffin's Bay, and get a homeward passage in some whaler. Accordingly the colours were nailed to the mast-head of the "Victory," and then officers and crew took leave of the ill-fated little vessel, on the 23rd of April, 1832. Captain Ross was deeply moved on this occasion; for, after having served forty-two years in thirty-five different ships, this was the first he had ever been obliged to abandon as a wreck.

Provisions and boats had now to be transported over long tracts of rugged ice, and as their great weight rendered it impossible to carry all at once, the same ground had to be traversed several times. Terrific snow storms retarded the progress of the wanderers, and invincible obstacles forced them to make long circuits. Thus it happened that during the first month of their pilgrimage through the wilderness, although they had travelled 329 miles, they only gained thirty in a direct line.

On the 9th of June, James Ross, the leading spirit of the expedition, accompanied by two men and with a fortnight's provisions, left the main body to ascertain the state of the boats and supplies at Fury Beach. Returning, they met their comrades on the 25th of June, and gratified them with the intelligence, that, though they had found three of the boats washed away, enough still remained for their purpose, and that all the provisions were in good condition.

On the 1st of July the whole party arrived at Fury Beach, whence, after having repaired the weather-worn boats, they set out again on the 1st of August, and, after much buffeting among the ice in their frail shallops, reached the mouth of the inlet by the end of the month. But here they were doomed to disappointment; for, after several fruitless attempts to run along Barrow's Strait, the obstructions from the ice obliged them to haul the boats on shore and pitch their tents.

Barrow's Strait was found from repeated surveys to be one impenetrable mass of ice. After lingering here till the third week in September, it was unanimously agreed that their only resource was to fall back again on the stores at Fury Beach, and spend their fourth winter in that dreary solitude. Here they sheltered their canvass tent with a wall of snow, and setting up an extra stove made themselves tolerably comfortable until the increasing severity of the winter, and the rigour of the cold, added to the tempestuous weather, made them perfect prisoners, and sorely tried their patience. Scurvy now began to appear, and several of the men fell victims to the scourge. At the same time cares for the future darkened the gloom of their situation, for, if they were not liberated in the ensuing summer, their diminishing food gave them but little hope of surviving another year.

It may be imagined how anxiously the aspect of the sea was watched during the ensuing summer, and with what beating hearts they at length embarked on the 15th of August. The spot which the year before they had attained after the most strenuous exertions was soon passed, and slowly winding their way through the ice-blocks with which the inlet was encumbered, they now saw the wide expanse of Barrow's Strait open before them. With spirits invigorated by hope they push on, alternately rowing and sailing, and on the night of the 25th rest in a good harbour on the eastern shore of Navy Board Inlet. "A ship in sight!" is the joyful sound that awakens them early on the following morning; and never have men more hurriedly and energetically set out, never have oars been more indefatigably plied. But the elements are against them, calms and currents conspire against their hopes, and to their inexpressible disappointment the ship disappears in the distant haze.

But after a few hours of suspense the sight of another vessel lying to in a calm relieves their despair. This time their exertions are crowned with success; and, wonderful! the vessel which receives them on board is the same "Isabella" in which Ross made his first voyage to these seas.

They told him of his own death, and could hardly be persuaded that it was really he and his party who now stood before them. But when all doubts were cleared away, you should have heard their thrice-repeated thundering hurrahs!

The scene that now followed cannot better be told than in Ross's own words:—

"Every man was hungry, and was to be fed; all were ragged, and were to be clothed; there was not one to whom washing was not indispensable; nor one whom his beard did not deprive of all human semblance. All, everything, too was to be done at once. It was washing, dressing, shaving, eating, all intermingled; it was all the materials of each jumbled together; while in the midst of all there were interminable questions to be asked and answered on both sides; the adventures of the "Victory," our own escapes, the politics of England, and the news, which was now four years old.

"But all subsided into peace at last. The sick were accommodated, the seamen disposed of, and all was done for us which care and kindness could perform.

"Night at length brought quiet and serious thoughts; and I trust there was not a man among us who did not then express, where it was due, his gratitude for that interposition which had raised us all from a despair which none could now forget, and had brought us from the very borders of a most distant grave to life and friends and civilisation. Long accustomed, however, to a cold bed on the hard snow or the bare rock, few could sleep amid the comfort of our accommodations. I was myself compelled to leave the bed which had been kindly assigned me, and take my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better with the rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent change, to break through what had become habit, and to inure us once more to the usages of our former days."

I have no time to relate how Ross was received in England, and what honours were heaped upon him; honours conferred with all the better grace that the nation had not forgotten him during his long-protracted absence, and had no cause to blush for culpable neglect. For Britain has ever considered it her duty to help and assist the men who venture their lives in the cause of science and for the advancement of her glory; nor will she allow the officer who carries her standard into unknown lands, and there falls a victim to nature or to man, to perish without feeling his last moments gladdened by the conviction, that, however distant his grave, the eye of his country rests upon him.

Thus when Back, that noble Paladin of Arctic research, volunteered to lead a relief expedition in quest of Ross, £4000 were immediately raised by public subscription to defray the expenses of the undertaking. While deep in the American wilds Back was gratified with the intelligence that the object of his search had safely arrived in England, but, instead of returning home, the indefatigable explorer resolved to trace the unknown course of the Thlu-it-scho, or Great Fish River, down to the distant outlet where it pours its waters into the polar seas. It would take a volume to recount his adventures in this wonderful expedition, the numberless falls, cascades, and rapids that obstructed his progress; the storms and snow-drifts that vainly conspired to repel him; the horrors of that iron-ribbed desert, without a single tree on the whole line of his passage; and how heroically he persevered to the very last, and added Back's River, as the Thlu-it-scho has most deservedly been called, to the geographical conquests of which England may well be proud.

The present is not a detailed account of Arctic discovery, a complete historical narrative of how step by step those dreary regions, the refuse of the earth, have grown into distinctness on the map; so passing over Simpson's wonderful boat-voyage along the northern shores of America, which led to the discovery of 1600 miles of coast (1837-1839), and Rae's important researches on Melville Peninsula (1846, 1847), I proceed to the last expedition of Sir John Franklin. We all know how the veteran seaman left England in the sixtieth year of his age, once more to try the north-western passage; how since his last despatches, dated from the Whalefish Islands, Baffin's Bay, July 12th, 1845, months and months, and then years and years, elapsed without bringing any tidings of his fate; how Collinson and M'Clure, Penny and Inglefield, Kane and Bellot, and so many other worthies, went out to search for the "Erebus" and "Terror," and how in spite of all their efforts mystery still overhung the ill-fated expedition, until M'Clintock raised the veil and informed us how miserably most of the gallant seamen perished in those dreary wastes, but how their commander had been spared the pangs of protracted suffering, and gone to his eternal rest even before his country began to feel concerned about his loss.

The search for Franklin is a page in history of which a nation may well be proud, more noble than a hundred battles and grander than the conquest of an empire. These are no blood-stained laurels, but palms of glory gained by matchless energy and perseverance over the horrors of a nature inimical to man, a theme which some future Homer will delight to sing. Had Franklin been ever so successful, he could not possibly have achieved so much for Arctic discovery as his loss gave rise to; for to the disasters of his voyage we owe the knowledge of all the coasts of that intricate conglomeration of islands which faces the Pole, and of the channels, which opening far to the north, lead to its profoundest, and seemingly impenetrable depths. All these discoveries are of little commercial value, it is true, for no trading vessel will ever plough those desert seas; but it is no small advantage to a nation to have to register such pages in her annals, and to leave them as a legacy and an example to future generations.

The series of modern South Polar expeditions was opened in 1819 by Smith's casual discovery of New South Shetland. Soon afterwards a Russian expedition under Lazareff and Bellinghausen discovered (January, 1821), in 69° 3' south lat., the islands Paul the First and Alexander, the most southern lands that had ever been visited by man.

The year after, Captain Weddell, a sealer, penetrated into the icy sea as far as 74° 15' south lat. three degrees nearer to the pole than had been attained by the indomitable perseverance of Cook. Swarms of petrels animated the sea, and no ice impeded his progress, but as the season was far advanced, and Weddell apprehended the dangers of the return voyage, he steered again to the north. In 1831 Biscoe discovered Enderby Land, and soon afterwards Graham's Land, to which the gratitude of geographers has since given the discoverer's name.

Then follows Balleny who in 1839 revealed the existence of the group of islands called after him, and of Sabrina Land (69° south lat.).

About the same time three considerable expeditions appear in the southern seas, sent out by France, the United States, and England.

Dumont D'Urville discovered Terre Louis Philippe (63° 30' south lat.) in February, 1838, and Terre AdÉlie (66° 67' south lat.) on the 21st of January, 1840.

Almost on the same day, Wilkes, the commander of the United States exploring expedition reached a coast which he followed for a length of 1500 miles, and which has been called Wilkes' Land, to commemorate the discoverer's name. But of all the explorers of the southern frozen ocean, the palm unquestionably belongs to Sir James Ross, who penetrated farther towards the Pole than any other navigator before or after, and followed up to 79° south lat. a steep coast, whose enormous glaciers stretched far out into the sea. In 77° 5' south lat. he witnessed a magnificent eruption of Mount Erebus, the Etna of the extreme south. The enormous columns of flame and smoke rising two thousand feet above the mouth of the crater, which is elevated 12,000 feet above the level of the sea, combined, with the snow-white mountain-chain and the deep blue ocean, to form a scene, the magnificence of which seemed to be enhanced by the reflection that no human eye had ever witnessed its beauty, as most likely none will ever witness it again. As all the efforts of the gallant leader to penetrate still farther to the south were baffled by a mighty ice-barrier, forming an uninterrupted mural precipice for the length of several hundred miles, he yielded to the invincible obstacles of nature, and returned to more genial climes. It is worthy of notice, that Sir James Clark Ross had accompanied Parry on his sledge-expedition to the North Pole, and thus acquired the unique distinction of having approached both poles nearer than any other man.

Whether the lands discovered by Wilkes, D'Urville, Biscoe, Balleny, and Ross form a continuous continent, or belong to a large group of islands behind which an open sea extends to the very Pole, is a question which most likely will never be solved, as its determination can never be of the least use to mankind.

The numerous scientific voyages of circumnavigation achieved during the course of the present century are far more important, with regard to the welfare and progress of humanity, than the researches which have been made in the icy wildernesses of the north and south. New lands and isles of great extent have indeed not been discovered by these expeditions, but they have contributed not less largely to the advancement of geography and the natural sciences.

The wonders of oceanic life have first been shown in a more distinct light by the labours of Chamisso, Meyen, Lesson, Darwin, Gray, Hooker, Robinson, Dana, &c., who accompanied Kotzebue, Freycinet, Fitzroy, Ross, &c., on their world-encircling course; and numerous coasts and groups of islands, situated in the remotest seas, and formerly only superficially known, have been accurately measured and traced on the map by the distinguished hydrographers who took part in those far-famed voyages.

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