Farewells are spoken. The voyageurs are again a-wing. They reach the Arctic along the vast Siberian coast. There the cold is most intense, and of the frozen regions it is the wildest and grandest. A shimmering light seems to permeate it ever, even in its darkest periods. The ice presents plains, abysses, mountains. Everywhere are the débris of long-frozen animals. Over its dry waste of congealed waters, the fierce blasts, as if by frictional action on its rugged surfaces, ever generate electrical phenomena. In midwinter and darkness, scintillating flashes gleam along them in the nether air. Such was their vision.

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