An Ice Continent.

"The climax came one Sunday morning. We were running along before a moderate north-west gale, and things looked very black ahead, but the day broke clear and fine, and then we saw a sight. More ice. Not huge bergs such as we had been sailing through before, but a veritable continent of it, stretching away to the eastward as far as the eye could reach. We were off the south-west corner at 8 o'clock in the morning, and a wonderful sight it was to watch the seas breaking against the icy shore just as they do against the rock-bound coast. The big westerly seas came sweeping in from the ocean—not like the gradual shelving of the shore on our New Zealand West Coast, for instance—but a mile or so deep, and than hurling themselves against the ice cliffs were dissipated in showers of spray hundreds of feet high. It was a glorious sight, and we saw as much of it as we wanted, for owing to the fact that there were a number of loose bergs to windward—probably calves from the large mass—we had to sail along the edge of the 'continent' all day, finally getting out clear at the north-east end at about 4 p.m., and that was the last we saw of the ice on this memorable passage."