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and cliff can be called, is as well known
to me as the beloved fields of Lapidea
for 50 miles to the north and south - (NE - SW)
I can name every rock and chasm - and
water course - In pitchy darkness - in fog
in moonlight & sun glare I am alike at
home upon its hardly alleging surface -
To the Esquimaux Huts - well named by
them [An o a lok?] the wind loved spot -
have already made five travels of sixty
miles each - and now stiff and scurried
though I be I [must?] look forward to
the uncomfortable prospect of another
[unclear] - The meat - our only safety comes in
slowly and to none but myself can I
trust the duty of collecting it - In less
than 48 hours I made [lake?] the field again -
- All these thoughts came to me at
supper while listening to the stories od
my comrades.

Our talk ran thus - I opening
“Better a dinner of herbs Mr Brooks where
love is than a [stalled?] one and hatred
withal.” Eh”! ‘Well” - and here he
shifts his quid as the prelude to a sentence
- I don’t care much about the stalled
on with all this here walrus beef afore
me but I’m ready for the [yards?]

At this moment I catch - some by=talk
at the other end of the table - “It blew
hard said McGeary, last night and I
slept cold on the stones of that Esquimaux
hut for the devils had knocked the
door down” “Hah”! says Ohlsen, with his
Danish twang, we have been five nights on
the ground but this night is the worst of them
and I’m glad to get back in the [Sloopkie?]
“A blowing and a drifting” Thy the wind
comes down the Fiord so hard that