January 2nd, 1922.
Another wonderful day, fine, clear, a slight head wind, but cheerful for us after these last days of stress and strain. At 1 p.m. we passed our first berg. The old familiar sight aroused in me memories that the strenuous years had deadened. Blue caverns shone with sky-glow snatched from heaven itself, green spurs showed beneath the water.
And bergs mast high
Came sailing by,
As green as emerald.
Ah me! the years that have gone since in the pride of young manhood I first went forth to the fight. I grow old and tired, but must always lead on.
January 3rd, 1922.
Another beautiful day; fortune seems to attend us this New Year, but so anxious have I been, when things are going well, I wonder what internal difficulty will be sprung upon me. All day long a light wind and clear sky was our happy portion. I find a difficulty in settling down to write—I am so much on the qui vive; I pray that the furnace will hold out.
Thankful that I can
Be crossed and thwarted as a man.