THE WORLD OF ICE. 48

work of polished steel, in which the sun shone with
dazzling brilliancy. The tops of the icy islets were
pure white, and the sides of the higher ones of a
delicate blue colour, which gave to the scene a trans-
parent lightness that rendered it pre-eminently fairy-
like.

“Tt far surpasses anything I ever conceived,” ejac-
tated Singleton after a long silence. “No wonder
that authors speak of scenes being indescribable.
Does it not seem like a dream, Fred ?”

“Tom,” replied Fred earnestly, “I’ve been trying to
fancy myself in another world, and I have almost
succeeded. When I look long and intently at the
ice, I get almost to believe that these are streets, and
palaces, and cathedrals. I never felt so strong a
desire to have wings that I might fly from one island
to another, and go floating in and out and round
about those blue caves and sparkling pinnacles.”

“It’s a curious fancy, Fred, but not unnatural.”

“Tom,” said Fred after another long silence, “has
not the thought oceurred to you that God made it
all 2”

“Some such thought did cross my mind, Fred, for
a moment, but it soon passed away. Is it not very
strange that the idea of the Creator is so seldom and
so slightly connected with his works in our minds ?”

Again there was a long silence. Both youths had
a desire to continue the conversation, and yet each
felt an unaccountable reluctance to renew it. Neither
of them distinctly understood that the natural heart