Chocolate.
Our table conversation was mainly with regard to our work.

We would discuss the details of the last sledge trip, or talk over the plans for the next one.

There was always something going on, and the minds of the men were so occupied that they did not have time to yield themselves to the traditional, maddening winter melancholy of the Arctic.

Moreover, men of sanguine temperament had been selected, and much material in the rough had been carried along in order to keep everybody busy working it into shape for use.
On Sunday mornings I breakfasted in my cabin, thus leaving the men to themselves.

On these occasions conversation was less technical and ranged from books to table manners, and sometimes Bartlett seized the opportunity to give his companions half-serious, half-humorous advice on the matter of table conduct, telling them that the time would come when they must return to civilization, and that they must not allow themselves to get into careless habits.