The world seems
to be entirely wrong, and man grows nervous and restless. Sleep is
driven from his weary eyelids, his appetite fails, and all the
disagreeable results of protracted vigils are apparent. But gradually
he becomes used to this state of affairs, devises means to darken his
tent, and once more enjoys his hour of rest. In fact, he learns how to
take advantage of the new arrangement, and when travelling pursues his
journey at night, or when the sun is lowest, because then he finds the
frost that hardens the snow a great assistance in sledging.
The sun's rays then, falling more obliquely, are less powerful, and he
avoids somewhat the evils that beset his pathway at noontime. He is not
so much exposed to sunburn or to snow-blindness. It may sound strangely
to speak of sunburn in the frigid zone, but perhaps nowhere on the
earth is the traveller more annoyed by that great ill. The heat of
ordinary exercise compels him to throw back the hood of his fur coat,
that the cool evenings and mornings preclude his discarding, and not
only his entire face becomes blistered, but especially--if he is
fashionable enough to wear his hair thin upon the top of his head--his
entire scalp is affected about as severely as if a bucket of scalding
water had been poured over his head. This is not an exaggeration.
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