We stand there on deck gazing northward. The sun dazzles our eyes. There are great banks of cloud to the north. But gradually they take the form of mighty blue mountains rising out of a tableland of ice and snow. The coastline looms ahead and presently shows valleys with vast glaciers and ice-decked fjords; and out of the snow, ice, and fog there emerges a great blue mountain resembling a gigantic cathedral: Horn- sund Tind. Spitsbergen in this light is a sight unparalleled. It is impossible to conjure up a scene of greater beauty and grandeur, so unapproach- able in its majesty. About midnight we are off Hornsund. The sun is high in the heavens and as clear and strong as on a summer’s day, but it does not give so much warmth. Passengers stay long on deck to enjoy the splen- dour of the night. We see the blue pinnacles of Prince Charles Foreland far out to sea in the north. Bell Sound is passed in the early hours. The still fjord stretches inland, with small patches of drift ice here and there, its lofty mountain sides enwreathed in vast glaciers. But we must have a little sleep. We sail from wonder to wonder — but human nature claims its own. While we breakfast next morning our ship is lying off Longyear City in Ice Fjord. This settle- ment has a mining population of 500, including 50 women. The passengers stream ashore to the post office and the wireless station, for everyone 189