himself. I have never met a more beautiful character than that which is
revealed unconsciously in these journals. His humanity, his courage, his
faith, his steadfastness, above all, his simplicity, mark him as a man
among men. It is because of his simplicity that his last message, the
last entries in his diary, his last letters, are of such undying beauty.
The letter of consolation (and almost of apology) which, on the verge of
death, he wrote to Mrs. Wilson, wife of the man dying at his side, may
well be Scott's monument. He could have no finer. And he has raised a
monument for those other gallant gentlemen who died--Wilson, Oates,
Bowers, Evans. They are all drawn for us clearly by him in these pages;
they stand out unmistakably. They, too, come to be friends of ours, their
death is as noble and as heartbreaking. And there were gallant gentlemen,
I said, who lived--you may read amazing stories of them. Indeed, it is a
wonderful tale of manliness that these two volumes tell us. I put them
down now; but I have been for a few days in the company of the brave ...
and every hour with them has made me more proud for those that died and
more humble for myself."

I have quoted this review at length, because it gives the atmosphere of
hero-worship into which we were plunged on our return. That atmosphere
was very agreeable; but it was a refracting medium through which the
expedition could not be seen with scientific accuracy--and the expedition
was nothing if not scientific. Whilst we knew what we had suffered and
risked better than any one else, we also knew that science takes no
account of such things; that a man is no better for having made the worst
journey in the world; and that whether he returns alive or drops by the
way will be all the same a hundred years hence if his records and
specimens come safely to hand.

In addition to Scott's Last Expedition and Priestley's Antarctic