As we travel northward, leaving the sunny lands of the temperate zone, we come after a time to mighty and seemingly endless forests of pines and firs. Mile after mile, they stretch away in a lonely silence. The wintry gale that rages among them is answered only by the howl of the wolf, while a few bears, reindeer, and the arctic fox, alone of animals, find a home in their snowy depths.

Gradually as we go onward the trees are more stunted, gradually the pines and firs give way to dwarfed willows, and soon we come to the barren grounds, a vast region extending about the pole, and greater in size than the whole continent of Europe.

The boundary line of these barren grounds, is not everywhere equally distant from the pole. The temperature of arctic lands, like that of other climes, is affected greatly by the surrounding seas and by ocean currents. In the sea-girt peninsula of Labrador they reach their most extreme southerly point; and as a rule they extend southward where the land borders on the ocean, receding far to the northward in the centre of the continents.

All this vast territory is a frozen waste, its only vegetation a few mosses and lichens. The few weeks of arctic summer do not allow the growth of even shrubs. As we advance through the forests the trees are more and more dwarfed. Soon they become merely stunted stems, for though they put forth buds in summer, winter is upon them before wood can be formed. On the shores of the Great Bear Lake, it is said that a trunk a foot in diameter requires four hundred years for its formation.

A more desolate scene than the barren grounds in winter, it is difficult to imagine. Buried deep under the heaped up snows, with the winds howling across their dreary wastes, and an intense cold of which we have little idea, it is no wonder that almost no animal, save the hardy arctic fox, can find a subsistence upon them.

But no sooner does the returning sun bring the short weeks of summer than all this is changed, and they are the scene of varied life and activity. Vast herds of reindeer come from the forests to feed upon the fresh mosses, flocks of sea-birds fly northward to lay their eggs upon the rocks, and to seek their food in the rivers teeming with fish, while millions of gnats fill the air in clouds, enjoying to the utmost their short lives.

And their lives are indeed short, for it is almost July before the snows are gone and the hardy lichens can send forth shoots, and by September all vegetation is again beneath its snowy coverlet for another long nine months’ sleep. The reindeer have, before this, made haste to seek the shelter of the forest, the bears have disposed of themselves for their winter sleep, the birds have all sought the milder region southward, and all is again silence and solitude.

It is due to the snow, that at first seems such an enemy to vegetation, that even such low forms of life as mosses are able to exist on the barren grounds. Before the intense cold of the arctic winter has set in, they are buried deep beneath its warm folds. Outside the wind may howl and the cold grow more and more severe till the thermometer marks for months forty degrees below zero; beneath the snow an even and comparatively mild temperature exists. Dr. Kane found that when the outside air was thirty below zero, beneath eight feet of snow it was twenty-six above zero, a difference of fifty-six degrees.

Great as are the barren grounds, or tundri, as they are called in Siberia, the arctic forest region is far greater, for it reaches around the globe in a broad belt, nearly a thousand miles in width. Few indeed are the occupants of these great tracts, compared with the more favored southern lands. The poverty of the soil, and the severity of the climate, prevent the growth of crops, and man is offered only such subsistence as can be gained by hunting and fishing. In consequence they are inhabited but by scattered tribes of savages and by hardy trappers, who brave their dangers for the rich booty to be gained from their many fur-bearing animals.

Of all the four footed inhabitants of these forests, by far the most interesting is the reindeer. What the camel is to the native of the desert, the reindeer is to the Lapp, or the Samojede. While it cannot compare with its finely formed relative the stag, it is excellently fitted for the situation in which nature has placed it. Its hoofs are very broad, forming a species of snow shoe, which prevents it from sinking in the drifts and allows it to leap and run with the greatest swiftness, while the squarely-built body, short legs and broad hoofs are of the greatest help in swimming. The most surprising thing about reindeer is their sense of smell. For the greater part of the year, their food consists entirely of mosses which are buried beneath the snow. These they uncover with their feet, having first discovered their existence by their scent, and no case has ever been known, where a reindeer has made a mistake and dug for moss in vain. They are easily domesticated and taught to draw a light sledge, though it is said when overloaded or otherwise maltreated, they turn upon their persecutors with horns and hoofs, and force him to take refuge in flight. In many countries, as for instance Lapland, they form the chief article of wealth and are owned in herds of thousands. Unfortunately an epidemic disease often appears, and the wealthy proprietor sees his whole herd die in a single season, while he himself must resort to the uncertain occupation of the fisherman for support. Besides the reindeer the arctic forests are the home of many other animals. Such are the black bear, the marten, ermine, mink, sable, various foxes, and others.

Notwithstanding the vast extent of this forest region and the small number of its inhabitants, so eagerly are all these animals hunted for their skins, that already certain varieties are fast disappearing. The hand of every man is against them, and hundreds of thousands fall every year, either by the arrow or trap of the native races, or the rifle ball of the trapper. The number of men who follow this life is very great. Wild, hazardous and lonely as it is, it possesses for them a strange attraction, and though they may forsake it for a time, they invariably return to it.

Nearly the whole of the arctic lands of North America are hunted over by the Hudson’s Bay Company, which has its trading forts and its outposts at intervals over the whole country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and northward to the barren grounds. This great company employs as overseers, guides, or voyageurs, over three thousand men, and may be said beside to have in its service nearly every Indian in North America; in all perhaps a hundred thousand men. Communication is held between the posts in the interior by means of voyageurs, who, with birch bark canoes, paddle up the rivers, carrying immense loads, passing onward through the trackless forest as unerringly as if upon a broad highway. “When after a hard day’s work, they rest for the night, the axe is immediately at work in the forest, and in less than ten minutes the tent is up, and the kettle simmering on the fire. They drag the unloaded canoe ashore, turn it over and examine it carefully, either to fasten again some loose stitches or to paint over some damaged part with fresh rosin. Under the cover of the boat, and with a flaming fire in the foreground, they bid defiance to the weather. At one o’clock in the morning lÈve lÈve is called; in half an hour the encampment is broken up, and the boat reladen and relaunched. At eight in the morning a halt is made for breakfast, for which three-quarters of an hour are allowed. About two, half an hour’s rest suffices for a cold dinner. Eighteen hours work and six rest make out the day.” And this is not all; presently a rapid is reached. Here the whole cargo has to be taken out, the boat lifted on the shoulders of one of the men and carried perhaps for several miles through swamp and brier, while the cargo is carried by the others in a like laborious manner.

But the scene of greatest life, in the arctic regions, is to be found among the birds. On the rocky cliffs, that stand out in the Polar sea in the short northern summer, they are to be found in such quantities as to literally darken the sky. Auks, and gulls, and ducks, cover the rocks. The most daring arctic explorer has never penetrated to lands where he has not found the eider duck. Well may this bird dare to make journeys into tracts where none can follow. With its warm coat it can bid defiance to the cold, and on its swift wing it can fly over fifty miles an hour, and should danger arise, can soon be beyond its reach. The hardy natives of Iceland gather each year large quantities of their feathers, which have a high value. Reaching their nests they take from them the delicate feathers, which the female bird has pulled from her breast to make a soft covering for the expected young. No sooner does she find her nest bare, than she again pulls a fresh supply, which is again taken from her. A third time she lines anew her nest, and now she is left in peace, for if again disturbed, the bird deserts entirely her accustomed breeding place, and seeks a new region beyond the reach of man.

Coasts, such as those of Norway, where the rocky cliffs rising hundreds of feet above the sea stretch for mile after mile, are especially fancied by sea birds. Every ledge is crowded with their nests, while the air is dark with them. But no cliff can protect them against their great enemy, man. No cliff is too inaccessible for him to reach.

Where the rocks can be approached from the sea, a boat lands two men on some projecting ledge. Their only aid is a long pole terminating in a hook, and the rope by which they are tied together. One, using his hands and feet, proceeds to climb up the cliff to some higher ledge, while his comrade fixing the hook firmly in his leathern belt, pushes from below till the point is reached. He himself is then pulled upward, by the rope, till both stand together. Continuing this perilous journey, they often ascend to a height of five or six hundred feet above the sea. Here the birds are so tame that they have but to put forth their hand to catch them, and the work of destruction begins. As fast as killed, they are thrown into the sea and picked up by the boat’s crew in waiting below. Sometimes when the weather is fair, the men spend several days on the cliff, sleeping at night on some broad ledge.

When the cliff cannot be reached in this way, it is common for a man to be lowered over the face of the rock by a rope, as is shown in the picture. Hanging thus in mid-air, with the ocean roaring a thousand feet below and the sea-birds flying wildly about him, a single mistake, or often a moment’s hesitation, would cause his certain death, and a cool head alone can be trusted at this perilous work.

It is said that an ancient law of Norway required that when a man fell in this way, his nearest relative should at once take the position in which the dead man was. If he could keep it in safety, Christian burial was allowed the body, but if he refused to undertake it, death was considered the result of recklessness, and the dead man was considered a suicide.