Oates tells me that one of the ponies, ‘Snippets,’ will eat blubber! the possible uses of such an animal are remarkable!

The gravel on the north side of the hut against which the stable is built has been slowly but surely worn down, leaving gaps under the boarding.  Through these gaps and our floor we get an unpleasantly strong stable effluvium, especially when the wind is strong.  We are trying to stuff the holes up, but have not had much success so far.

Saturday, August 26.—­A dying wind and clear sky yesterday, and almost calm to-day.  The noon sun is cut off by the long low foot slope of Erebus which runs to Cape Royds.  Went up the Ramp at noon yesterday and found no advantage—­one should go over the floe to get the earliest sight, and yesterday afternoon Evans caught a last glimpse of the upper limb from that situation, whilst Simpson saw the same from Wind Vane Hill.

The ponies are very buckish and can scarcely be held in at exercise; it seems certain that they feel the return of daylight.  They were out in morning and afternoon yesterday.  Oates and Anton took out Christopher and Snippets rather later.  Both ponies broke away within 50 yards of the stable and galloped away over the floe.  It was nearly an hour before they could be rounded up.  Such escapades are the result of high spirits; there is no vice in the animals.

We have had comparatively little aurora of late, but last night was an exception; there was a good display at 3 A.M.

P.M.—­Just before lunch the sunshine could be seen gilding the floe, and Ponting and I walked out to the bergs.  The nearest one has been overturned and is easily climbed.  From the top we could see the sun clear over the rugged outline of C. Barne.  It was glorious to stand bathed in brilliant sunshine once more.  We felt very young, sang and cheered—­we were reminded of a bright frosty morning in England—­everything sparkled and the air had the same crisp feel.  There is little new to be said of the return of the sun in polar regions, yet it is such a very real and important event that one cannot pass it in silence.  It changes the outlook on life of every individual, foul weather is robbed of its terrors; if it is stormy to-day it will be fine to-morrow or the next day, and each day’s delay will mean a brighter outlook when the sky is clear.

Climbed the Ramp in the afternoon, the shouts and songs of men and the neighing of horses borne to my ears as I clambered over its kopjes.

We are now pretty well convinced that the Ramp is a moraine resting on a platform of ice.

The sun rested on the sunshine recorder for a few minutes, but made no visible impression.  We did not get our first record in the Discovery until September.  It is surprising that so little heat should be associated with such a flood of light.

Sunday, August 27.—­Overcast sky and chill south-easterly wind.  Sunday routine, no one very active.  Had a run to South Bay over ‘Domain.’