An’ I said a many more (I can’t be accountable how many I said), an’ same uns many times, over:  for I would keep on; an’ ’ould sometimes sing ’em very loud in my poor way.

“A poor baste (a silver fox ‘e was) comed an’ looked at me; an’ when I turned round, he walked away a piece, an’ then ‘e comed back, an’ looked.

“So I found a high piece, wi’ a wall of ice atop for shelter, ef it comed on to blow; an’ so I stood, an’ said, an’ sung.  I knowed well I was on’y driftun away.

“It was tarrible lonely in the night, when night comed; it’s no use!  ’T was tarrible lonely:  but I ‘ould n’ think, ef I could help it; an’ I prayed a bit, an’ kep’ up my psalms, an’ varses out o’ the Bible, I’d a-larned.  I had n’ a-prayed for sleep, but for wakun all night, an’ there I was, standun.

“The moon was out agen, so bright; an’ all the hills of ice shinun up to her; an’ stars twinklun, so busy, all over; an’ No’ther’ Lights goun up wi’ a faint blaze, seemunly, from th’ ice, an’ meetun up aloft; an’ sometimes a great groanun, an’ more times tarrible loud shriekun!  There was great white fields, an’ great white hills, like countries, comun down to be destroyed; an’ some great bargs a-goun faster, an’ tearun through, breakun others to pieces; an’ the groanun an’ screechun,—­ef all the dead that ever was, wi’ their white clothes—­But no!” said the stout fisherman, recalling himself from gazing, as he seemed to be, on the far-off ghastly scene, in memory.

“No!—­an’ thank ’E’s marcy, I’m sittun by my own room.  ’E tooked me off; but ’t was a dreadful sight,—­it’s no use,—­ef a body’d let ‘e’sself think!  I sid a great black bear, an’ hard un growl; an’ ’t was feelun, like, to hear un so bold an’ so stout, among all they dreadful things, an’ bumby the time ’ould come when ‘e could n’ save ’e’sself, do what ‘e woul’.

“An’ more times ’t was all still:  on’y swiles bawlun, all over.  Ef it had n’ a-been for they poor swiles, how could I stan’ it?  Many’s the one I’d a-ketched, daytime, an’ talked to un, an’ patted un on the head, as ef they’d a-been dogs by the door, like; an’ they’d oose to shut their eyes, an’ draw their poor foolish faces together.  It seemed neighbor-like to have some live thing.

“So I kep’ awake, sayun an’ singun, an’ it was n’ very cold; an’ so,—­first thing I knowed, I started, an’ there I was lyun in a heap; an’ I must have been asleep, an’ did n’ know how ’t was, nor how long I’d a-been so:  an’ some sort o’ baste started away, an’ ’e must have waked me up; I could n’ rightly see what ‘t was, wi’ sleepiness:  an’ then I hard a sound, sounded like breakers; an’ that waked me fairly.  ‘T was like a lee-shore; an’ ‘t was a comfort to think o’ land, ef ’t was on’y to be wrecked on itself:  but I did n’ go, an’ I stood an’ listened to un; an’ now an’ agen I’d walk a piece, back an’ forth, an’ back an’ forth; an’ so I passed a many, many longsome hours, seemunly, tull night goed down tarrible slowly,