" Winter after winter, nature here assumes an aspect so much alike,
that cursory observation can scarcely detect a single feature of
variety. The winter of more temperate climates, and even in some of no
slight severity, is occasionally diversified by a thaw, which at once
gives variety and comparative cheerfulness to the prospect. But here,
when once the earth is covered, all is dreary, monotonous whiteness; not
merely for days or weeks, but for more than half a year together.
Whichever way the eye is turned, it meets a picture calculated to
impress upon the mind an idea of inanimate stillness, of that motionless
torpor with which our feelings have nothing congenial; of anything, in
short, but life. In the very silence there is a deadness with which a
human spectator appears _out of keeping_. The presence of man seems an
intrusion on the dreary solitude of this wintry desert, which even its
native animals have for a while forsaken.
I am persuaded, therefore, that I shall be excused in sparing the
dulness of another winter's diary, and confining myself exclusively to
those facts which appear to possess any scientific interest, to the few
incidents which _did_ diversify our confinement, and to such remarks as
may contribute to the health and comfort of any future sojourners in
these dreary regions.
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