destroyer among them; but we can see no reason why this should be more prevalent now than it was generations ago.

It seems that in former times there were chiefs among the Innuits, but at the present time there is no trace of any thing like government among them. In each community there is usually some one who, from age, personal prowess

as a hunter, or native shrewdness, is looked up to with respect, and his opinions are regarded with deference; but he has no sort of authority except that which each person voluntarily concedes to him.

We left Mr. Hall near the close of January, 1861, when he was just returning to the ship after his first overland expedition. We do not propose to follow him through the course of his personal narrative, although it abounds with striking incidents and details of hardship and peril. Thus, one day in March, John Brown, one of the ship's crew, in company with two Innuits, started off from an igloo a few miles distant to rejoin the ship. Somehow he got separated from his companions, but the next morning he had not arrived. The night had been intensely cold, the thermometer marking 57 degrees below freezingpoint. A party of a dozen set off in the attempt to find him. In two hours. they came upon the tracks of the wanderer, but only Hall and four others could hold out; the others, one by one, fell back. They kept on, following the tracks, which now began to grow faint, being partly filled up with snow. For a time the tracks went straight for the ship; then they began to waver, now in one direction, and then in another, showing that the man had lost his way. They followed the tracks, in the intense cold, 60 degrees below freezing-point. They were tormented by thirst, which they attempted to allay by the use of ice. The first fragment which Hall put into his mouth froze it fast. He managed to reduce the temperature of the ice by holding the fragments in his mittened hand, so that he could place them in his mouth. After six hours, Hall's companions said they could go no farther and must return; for they had brought along no snow-knife, with which they could build an igloo for the night; and if a storm should spring up, they must all be inevitably lost. Hall went on alone. One of the crew named Johnston soon overtook him, saying, "Brown was my shipmate, and I loved him. I will go on with you. If I were to go. back now, I shall always regret it." They followed the tracks, which now began to run in circles, interlocking one another. There were twelve of these

within less than two miles. Every little while they came upon places where the wanderer had lain down to rest. At five o'clock, nine hours after setting out, they were overtaken by Captain Buddington, with two sailors and two Innuits, accompanied by a dog-team. They all pressed on with renewed vigor, and in a few minutes came upon poor Brown, frozen dead. They could not convey the corpse to the ship, fully ten miles away, and so buried him in the snow upon the spot where he was found.

It was the middle of July before the ship was released from her icy prison. The whalers went to work, and Hall made several important expeditions by land and water, living nearly all the while with the Innuits. Towards the middle of October the captain began to prepare for returning home. But he was a few days too late. The ship was beset in the ice-pack, with no hope of escape. There was nothing left but to make up their minds to spend another winter in the ice.

We must pass wholly over the incidents and adventures of this second winter. It is the old tale of suffering and privation. On the 12th of January the thermometer fell to 72 degrees below the freezing point. One of the men who had left to visit an Innuit encampment came back, saying that he thought he had frozen his toe. Upon pulling off his boots both feet were found to be frozen stiff, and as hard as ice. The usual attempts to save the members were made in vain; mortification began, and, to save the man's life, the captain was obliged to amputate portions of both his feet.

This year, 1862, the ice held on unusually late; but on the 8th of August it

was found that the pack had broken up. The way home was apparently open; and all hands were summoned on board. The vessel spread her canvas and sailed off, the Innuits surrounding her in their canoes, and shouting farewell.

Tookoolito and Ebierbing resolved to accompany Hall to the States, taking with them Tukeliketa ("Butterfly"), their infant, a year old. The child died a few months after their arrival in the States, and lies buried in the graveyard at Groton, Connecticut. "I never saw," says Hall," a more animated, sweet-tempered, and engaging child." For days the mother was delirious; then she longed to die, that she might be with her lost Butterfly. Upon his grave were laid, according to the custom of his people, all his childish playthings. They were sacred to the dead. The mother went to the grave one day, and found that one article, a gayly-painted little tin pail, had been taken away. She was inconsolable. "Poor little Butterfly," she said, "how he will miss his beautiful pail !"

The homeward voyage was speedy and prosperous. On the 13th of September the "George Henry" dropped anchor at New London, whence she had sailed two years and three and a half months before.

The net results of Hall's expedition were these: Many new discoveries were made in Arctic geography; much information was gathered in relation to the inhabitants; and experience acquired of immense value to all future Arctic explorers. Mr. Hall also made a very interesting discovery in regard to the fate of the expedition of Martin Frobisher, undertaken almost three centuries ago. He found a tradition among the natives that many years ago white men in ships had visited a place still called "White Man's Island." Hall compared these traditions with the accounts extant in books respecting this voyage, and was struck with their remarkable coincidence. He visited the place designated as the white man's encampment, and found many things which had evidently been left by Europeans. Among these was a heap of coal amounting to several tons, a large fragment of iron, and some bricks. Every thing was covered over with moss whose thick growth showed that they must have remained there undisturbed for ages.

The bearing of this upon the possibility of revealing the whole mystery of the fate of Franklin is evident. If the Innuits have preserved tolerably accurate traditions of what took place three centuries ago, it is not to be doubted that they still have information of what took place within a single generation. It is now past hoping that any members of Franklin's expedition are yet living; but there must be Innuits who can tell how and where they died.

To further this investigation Hall resolved upon a second expedition. He spent nearly two years in preparing his book for publication, and in making preparations for this enterprise. Abundant facilities were now placed at his disposal; and on the 30th of July, 1864, he again set sail. In the preface to his book, written on board the vessel, he says:

"I am persuaded that among the Innuits may be sought, by one competent, with every chance of complete success, the sad history of Sir John Franklin's men. To make myself competent for this more interesting and important research, I patiently acquired the language and familiarized myself with the habits

of the Esquimaux. I now return to their country able to speak with them, to live among them, to support my life in the same manner that they do theirs; to migrate with them from place to place, and to traverse and patiently explore all the region in which it is reasonable to suppose Franklin's crew travelled and perished. I shall be accompanied by the two intelligent Esquimaux, Ebierbing and Tookoolito, who, having accompanied me on my return from my first expedition, and after remaining with me for two years, now go back with me on this second voyage. I enter upon this undertaking with the liveliest hope of success. I shall not, like previous explorers, set my foot on shore for a few days or weeks, or, like others, journey among men whose language to me is unintel ligible. I shall live for two or three years among the Esquimaux, and gain their confidence; and I have the advantage of understanding their language, and of making all my wishes known to them."

It is now (September, 1869) more than five years since Hall set out on this second expedition. Up to 1867 he wrote, as occasional opportunity offered, to his fast friend and warm supporter, Henry Grinnell; but his letters gave only faint indications of what he had been able to accomplish. In 1868, when he had hoped to return, no whaling-vessels came back to the States from the Arctic seas. A trace or two of him has been reported by English vessels, sufficient, however, to afford reason to believe that he still lives. An American whaler expected to pass the winter of 1868-9 in the region where Hall, if living would probably be, and it is hoped that in October of this year, 1869, before these pages will be before the reader, this vessel, bearing the brave explorer, will have reached the American shores.