The great day broke magnificently, a glorious, sunshiny December day, the thermometer at zero, or near it, but the air so dry and bathed in sun that one was not conscious of the cold.

Oh, the joy of feeling oneself flying through the air as we raced side by side over the firm, gla.s.s-like plain of ice! We must have skated at full pace for five miles at least before we pulled up, puffing and gloriously happy, in response to an exclamation from Tom.

'It's splendid,' he said, 'and I should like to go on for miles and miles; but Father warned me to look out when we came somewhere near the middle of the gulf; he has skated here a good deal in former years, and he says one must be on the look-out for fissures which are caused by a very hard frost like this; the ice suddenly cracks and parts, sometimes only a few inches, sometimes several feet, even up to fifteen feet or so. I believe I see a crack on ahead, and that's why I stopped.'

We skated slowly forward a short way. Sure enough, there opened out before our eyes, plain as possible, a fissure of several feet in width, the water looking black and cruel as it welled up to the edge of the ice as though it longed to get at us.

'Nice sort of place if one had skated up to it at dusk, eh?' said Tom.

The water certainly looked very grim.

'It's all very well, but what are we going to do?' said I. 'It will be no fun if this is the end of our skate, and we can't get to Cronstadt!'

'Perhaps it's only a local crack; we will skate along it, first one way and then the other, and see.'

We did so, but it appeared that the spot at which we originally struck the fissure was the narrowest place; it widened at either side.

We stood and stared at it. Tom spoke first.

'_Dare_ you?' he asked.

I saw what he meant and remained silent, considering. 'It's about six feet,' I said, 'I suppose one could fly it--both feet together, eh?'

'Yes; come on--no use thinking--we will go for it; I will give you a lead. Hold out your coat to me and pull me in if I fall short.'

Tom took a good run, got up a great speed, and launched himself into the air. He must have cleared eight or ten feet at least. 'Come on!' he laughed, 'it's as easy as winking.'

I must confess that I was more than a little frightened as I prepared to follow my daring cousin. I imitated his methods as closely as I could; I got a terrific speed up and let myself go.

I cleared the open water easily, but so great was my impetus that I turned head over heels at the other side, and lay panting and laughing on the ice.

Presently we were in full sweep once more towards Cronstadt; we reached the 'half-way house' without adventure; this was a little wooden hut built on the ice for the accommodation of travellers in need of shelter or warmth. It was kept by a man and his wife, who must have found it a weird house to live in all the winter.

'We heard wolves last night,' they told us; 'get back before dusk if you are wise!'

We thought little of the warning. We meant to be home by daylight. As for the wolves, they would have to be active animals to keep up with us at our pace!

Having enjoyed a cup of coffee and a cake apiece we continued our journey, and a few miles beyond the rest-house, came across another fissure which we calculated to be ten feet across.

By this time we were reckless, or very over confident. 'My turn to give you a lead!' said I, and suiting the action to the words, I worked up pace, flew out, and cleared the black water with ease. Tom followed and cleared it also, but in alighting he twisted his ankle a little. He uttered an exclamation of pain and sat down a moment, rubbing his leg.

He said it was nothing serious, however, and indeed, he was up and off again in a few moments.

(_Concluded on page 406._)

AN IMPRESSION OF ZANZIBAR.

A curious sight is told of by a gentleman who was lately in Zanzibar.

'Perhaps the most vivid impression that I brought away from my hurried visit to Zanzibar,' he says, 'was that of seeing the native carpenters in the Cathedral carving the memorial to Bishop Smythies, and planing with their toes, which were decked with silver rings!'

THE WRECK OF THE 'HOPE.'

A True Story.

'What a lovely day!' said Eileen, as she sat by her little brother's side, whilst John, the old boatman, rowed them across the bay. The rarest sh.e.l.ls were only to be found at the Point, and both children were eager collectors.

'It seems always smooth water in this bay,' said Maurice--'so different from where we went last year in Cornwall. There the great, big waves seemed always dashing against the sh.o.r.e.'

'You wait a bit, Master Maurice!' said old John. 'You have only been here a week or two, and it has been fine weather all the time; but when a storm gets up, I will answer for it you would not know the place.

There are no fiercer waves round England than those that beat against the cliffs yonder at times'--and the old man waved his hand at the cliffs just behind him.

'I should like to see a storm here,' said Maurice, as he clasped his hands round his knees and stared thoughtfully before him.

'Don't say that, sir,' answered John. 'It is a terrible thing, is a wreck on this coast; some poor vessel is sure to be dashed against the cruel cliffs in a storm, and then there are orphans and widows to mourn her loss.'

'Did you ever see a shipwreck?' asked Eileen.

'Many a one, Missy,' was the old man's quiet answer.

'But I mean, were you ever in a shipwreck?' pursued Eileen.

'I was, once,' said John, slowly.

'Oh, tell us about it, please!' begged Maurice.

'It's a long time ago now,' said the old boatman. 'I was a lad of twelve or thereabouts, on my first voyage. The vessel was the _Hope_, of Liverpool, and we had a cargo of Manchester goods. It was roughish weather when we started, and it kept on getting worse and worse, and by-and-bye such a storm arose as it seemed impossible for any ship to weather. Anyway, it was too much for the poor old _Hope_--she was driven on to the rocks off the Welsh coast and broke up like matches.'

'But the people on board! what became of them?' asked Eileen in an awe-struck tone.

'Drowned!' said old John, shortly.

'But,' said Eileen, suddenly, 'you were on that ship--you said so--and you are not drowned!'

'No, Missy, I am not,' said the old man suddenly. 'I had a most wonderful escape. It seems hard to believe that a little ignorant boy as I was should have been the only one saved out of that fine crew; but so it was.'

'Tell us about it,' said Maurice, fixing his eyes on the old man's weather-beaten face.

'When the storm was at its worst, and it was plain that the ship must founder, a kind-hearted sailor took me with him to the top of the main-mast. We had hardly got there before the ship gave a great lurch, and I believe the mast fell. Anyway, when next I knew anything, I found myself lying on the gra.s.s at the top of a low cliff, with the sea roaring below me. I had been thrown there as the mast fell.'

'Were you the only one saved?' asked Maurice.