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eager for more colour, will welcome the fuller description of the last march home, the welcome at Cape Evans, and general impressions of travel, which we owe to Mr. Cherry-Garrard's pen.

We just pulled for all we were worth and did nearly two miles an hour; for two miles a baddish salt surface, then big, undulating, hard sastrugi and good going. Several times I fell asleep as we were marching. We had done eight miles by 4 p.m. and were past Glacier Tongue. Then half a mile of bad pressure ice running from Glacier Tongue to Tent Island, and then rather worse going past Inaccessible, where we met a strong northerly wind. Up to now the light from the moon had been good, but now the light was worse and we were very done. At last we rounded the Cape and gradually pulled in and right up to the door, without disturbing anything. As we were getting out of our harness, always a big business in our frozen state, Hooper came out, suddenly said 'By Jove!' and rushed back, and then there was pandemonium.

It was 9.30 p.m., and a good many had turned out of their beds. Everybody hung on to some part of us and got our clothes off: mine next morning weighed 24 lbs. As they heard our story or bits of it they became more and more astonished. We were set down to cocoa and bread and butter and jam: we did not want anything else. Scott I heard say, 'But, look here, you know, this is the hardest journey that has ever been made.' They told us afterwards that we had a look in our faces as if we were at our last gasp, a look which had quite gone next morning.