so after this the coon, a much heavier bird, became more plentiful than the little doveky, and from this time to the middle of August, so successful and untiring were our sportsmen, that the crew received each a bird per man a day.

"The account kept on board the Investigator showed the number of birds killed to have amounted to about 4000, and yielding near 2500lbs. of meat. But more than this was obtained, as many were shot by individuals for amusement, and not always noted."

Mr. Goodsir, surgeon, when in the Advice whaler, on her voyage up Lancaster Sound, in the summer of 1849, speaking of landing on one of the Wollaston Islands, on the west side of Navy Board Inlet, says he disturbed about half a dozen pairs of the eider-duck (Somateria mollissima.) Their eggs he found to be within a few hours of maturity. There were, besides, numerous nests, the occupants of which had probably winged their way southward. Two brent geese, (Anser bernicla,) and a single pair of arctic terns, (Sterna arctica,) were most vociferous and courageous in defense of their downy offspring wherever he approached. These were the only birds he saw, with the exception of a solitary raven, (Corvus corax,) not very high overhead, whose sharp and yet musically bell-like croak came startling upon the ear.

Mr. Snow, in his account of the voyage of the Prince Albert, p. 162, says, (speaking of Melville Bay, at the northern head of Baffin's Bay,) "Innumerable quantities of birds, especially the little auk, (Alca allē,) and the doveky, (Colymbus grylle,) were now seen, (August 6th,) in every direction. They were to be ob served in thousands, on the wing and in the water, and often on pieces of ice, where they were clustered together so thick that scores might have been shot at a time by two or three fowling pieces."

In passing up Lancaster Sound a fortnight later several shoal of eider-ducks and large quantities of other birds were also seen.

A BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.

"The ice was here, the ice was there,

The ice was all around."- - COLERIDGE.

WHITHER Sail you, Sir John Franklin ?
Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay ;

To know if between the land and the Pole,
I may find a broad sea-way.

I charge you back, Sir John Franklin,
As you would live and thrive,

For between the land and the frozen Pole
No man may sail alive.

But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,
And spoke unto his men:-

Half England is wrong, if he is right;
Bear off to westward then.

O, whither sail you, brave Englishman ?
Cried the little Esquimaux.

Between your land and the polar star
My goodly vessels go.

Come down, if you would journey there,
The little Indian said;

And change your cloth for fur clothing,
Your vessel for a sled.

But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,
And the crew laughed with him too;
A sailor to change from ship to sled,
I ween, were something new!

All through the long, long polar day,
The vessels westward sped;

And wherever the sail of Sir John was blown,

The ice gave way and fled.

Gave way with many a hollow groan,
And with many a surly roar;

But it murmured and threatened on every side,

And closed where he sailed before.

Ho! see ye not, my merry men,
The broad and open sea?
Bethink ye what the whaler said,
Bethink ye of the little Indian's sled !
The crew laughed out in glee.

Sir John, Sir John, 'tis bitter cold,
The scud drives on the breeze,

The ice comes looming from the north,
The very sunbeams freeze.

Bright summer goes, dark winter comes
We cannot rule the year;

But long ere summer's sun goes down,
On yonder sea we'll steer.

The dripping icebergs dipped and rose,
And floundered down the gale;

The ships were staid, the yards were manned,
And furled the useless sail.

The summer 's gone, the winter 's come,

We sail not on yonder sea;

Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin?
A silent man was he.

The winter goes, the summer comes,
We cannot rule the year;

I ween, we cannot rule the ways,
Sir John, wherein we 'd steer.

The cruel ice came floating on,
And closed beneath the lee,

Till the thickening waters dashed no more,
'T was ice around, behind, before-
My God! there is no sea!

What think you of the whaler now!
What of the Esquimaux?

A sled were better than a ship,

To cruise through ice and snow.

Down sank the baleful crimson sun;
The northern-light came out,

And glared upon the ice-bound ships,
And shook its spears about.

The snow came down, storm breeding storm,
And on the decks was laid;

Till the weary sailor, sick at heart,

Sank down beside his spade.

Sir John, the night is black and long,

The hissing wind is bleak;

The hard, green ice is strong as death :

I prithee, captain, speak.

The night is neither bright nor short,

The singing breeze is cold,

The ice is not so strong as hope,
The heart of man is bold!

What hope can scale this icy wall,
High o'er the main flag-staff?
Above the ridges the wolf and bear
Look down with a patient, settled stare
Look down on us and laugh.

The summer went, the winter came-
We could not rule the year;
But summer will melt the ice again,
And open a path to the sunny main,
Whereon our ships shall steer.

The winter went, the summer went,

The winter came around;

But the hard, green ice was strong as death,
And the voice of hope sank to a breath,
Yet caught at every sound.

Hark! heard you not the sound of guns?
And there, and there again?

'T is some uneasy iceberg's roar,
As he turns in the frozen main.

Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux
Across the ice-fields steal:

God give them grace for their charity!
Ye pray for the silly seal.

Sir John, where are the English fields,
And where the English trees,

And where are the little English flowers,
That open in the breeze?

Be still, be still, my brave sailors!

You shall see the fields again,

And smell the scent of the opening flowers,

The grass, and the waving grain.

Oh! when shall I see my orphan child?
My Mary waits for me;

Oh! when shall I see my old mother,
And pray at her trembling knee?

Be still, be still, my brave sailors!
Think not such thoughts again!
But a tear froze slowly on his cheek
He thought of Lady Jane.

Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold,
The ice grows more and more;

More settled stare the wolf and bear,
More patient than before.

--

Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin,
We 'll ever see the land?

'T was cruel to send us here to starve,
Without a helping hand.

"T was cruel, Sir John, to send us here,
So far from help or home;

To starve and freeze on this lonely sea;
I ween, the Lords of the Admiralty
Had rather send than come.

Oh! whether we starve to death alone,
Or sail to our own country,

We have done what man has never done
The open ocean danced in the sun

We passed the Northern Sea!

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