Robert Edwin Peary

../../ (1873)

Summary

Robert Edwin Peary ../../ (1873)

The part of the valley through which we passed seemed, in the bright light of the July sun, very summer-like, The space on the south side of the river, between it and the foot of the bluffs, protected from all winds, warmed by the sun throughout the twenty-four hours, watered continually by streams from the ice-cap, trickling down the bluffs, is a series of brilliant green-meadow patches, through which little crystal streams meander over beds of yellow sand and round rocks, like many a trout brook at home.
Source: Wikisource

Robert Edwin Peary ../../ (1873)

With the falling of the last musk-ox, my dogs made a rush for the little animals, which, though wide-eyed and trembling with fear, showed a bold front to the savage unknown creatures which surrounded them. Fortunately, I was too quick for the dogs, and rescued the little fellows.
Then I hardly knew what to do. I had not the heart to kill them myself, nor to tell my Eskimos to, Finally, I thought I would try to get them to the ship, fifty miles away, though I did not know how I was to do this over the miles of mountains and rough ice.
Source: Wikisource

Robert Edwin Peary ../../ (1873)

Miss Columbia. quite likely, has a funny little jet black calf of her own, with soft bright eyes, a gray forehead, thick, clumsy legs, who follows her closely with nose pressed into her warm fur, nibbles the willow leaves, and drinks from the sparkling brooks when the sun shines, and, when the cold winds blow and the snow falls, curls up close against her and, covered by her long fur, sleeps warm and very soundly.
Source: Wikisource

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature