Polar Exploration.

There is something pathetic in relics—human relics. Pathetic, and perhaps inspiring. The path of Empire, as Kipling has said, has been blazed with the bones of the pioneers. But the temperate and tropical world that man frequents tends to consume its relics; the sea does not always give up its dead, and even the bones of those that perished in the desert do not long survive the decay of nature. Not so, however, the bodies of men lost in Polar wastes. Discovery in Franz Josef Land of the well preserved bodies of the Swedish engineer-aeronaut, S. A. Andree and his balloon party, bridges the gap of thirty-odd years separating the feeble aerial travel of their day from the aviation efficiency that has enabled Richard Byrd to fly over both Poles. Andree dreamed his dream of North Pole air-conquest some thirty years too soon. The inevitable happened, and he fell asleep. If he could wake and return, what a Rip Van Winkle story to unfold!

Andree's expedition, starting in 1897, was one of the last memorable exploratory efforts of the nineteenth century. Its historical importance lies in that it marks the transfer of exploring thought from the dog sledge to the air. Already men were seeking to do in days or hours what Pole-conquerors like Peary, Amundsen, and Scott did in weary weeks and months. To say that is not to say that Polar exploration by means of a multi-engined aeroplane or an R100 is completely satisfying. At least one Polar explorer, Wilkins, page 10 has announced that he is “through with flying.” The non-stop flier comes and sees, but does not conquer. He cannot claim “effective occupation.” So Wilkins essays to attack the North Pole with a United States naval submarine. It is even cabled that he has backers in a bond to restore the submarine in good condition. How this would tax the credibility of a Rip Van Winkle of 1897. We can hardly believe it ourselves.