would perhaps pray all the powers of goodness to preserve them from such surroundings, does not counteract the full validity of this rule.  To an overwhelming majority of our fellow-men Framheim will certainly appear as one of those spots on our planet where they would least of all wish to find themselves —­ a God-forsaken, out-of-the-way hole that could offer nothing but the very climax of desolation, discomfort, and boredom.  To us nine, who stood on the gangway ready to leave this place, things appeared somewhat differently.  That strong little house, that now lay entirely hidden beneath the snow behind Mount Nelson, had for a whole year been our home, and a thoroughly good and comfortable home it was, where after so many a hard day’s work we had found all the rest and quiet we wanted.  Through the whole Antarctic winter —­ and it is a winter —­ those four walls had protected us so well that many a poor wretch in milder latitudes would have envied us with all his heart, if he could have seen us.  In conditions so hard that every form of life flies headlong from them, we had lived on at Framheim undisturbed and untroubled, and lived, be it said, not as animals, but as civilized human beings, who had always within their reach most of the good things that are found in a well-ordered home.  Darkness and cold reigned outside, and the blizzards no doubt did their best to blot out most traces of our activity, but these enemies never came within the door of our excellent dwelling; there we shared quarters with light and warmth and comfort.  What wonder was it that this spot exercised a strong attraction upon each of us at the moment when we were to turn our backs upon it for good?  Outside the great world beckoned to us, that is true; and it might have much to offer us that we had had to forego for a long time; but in what awaited us there was certainly a great deal that we would gladly have put off for as long as possible.  When everyday life came with its cares and worries, it might well happen that we should look back with regret to our peaceful and untroubled existence at Framheim.

However, this feeling of melancholy was hardly so strong that we could not all get over it comparatively quickly.  Judging by the faces, at any rate, one would have thought that joy was the most predominant mood.  And why not?  It was no use dwelling on the past, however attractive it might seem just then, and as to the future, we had every right to expect the best of it.  Who cared to think of coming troubles?  No one.  Therefore the Fram was dressed with flags from stem to stern, and therefore faces beamed at each other as we said good-bye to our home on the Barrier.  We could leave it with the consciousness that the object of our year’s stay had been attained, and, after all, this consciousness was of considerably more weight than the thought that we had been so happy there.  One thing that in the course of our two years’ association on this expedition contributed enormously to making time