n. On deck you cannot realize
this feeling, for there sails and yards tower above you, and masts, and
boats, and cordage intercept your view; but from above you _take in_ the
intense minuteness of your home at a single glance--you stand aside, as
it were, and in some measure comprehend the insignificance of the
_thing_ to which you have committed your life.

The scene witnessed by our friends at the masthead of the _Dolphin_ on
this occasion was surpassingly beautiful. Far as the eye could stretch
the sea was covered with islands and fields of ice of every conceivable
shape. Some rose in little peaks and pinnacles, some floated in the form
of arches and domes, some were broken and rugged like the ruins of old
border strongholds, while others were flat and level like fields of
white marble; and so calm was it, that the ocean in which they floated
seemed like a groundwork 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 transparent lightness that rendered it pre-eminently fairy-like.

"It far surpasses anything I ever conceived," ejaculated 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
occurred to you that God made it all?"

"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 is enmity
against God, and that, until he is converted by the Holy Spirit, man
neither loves to think of his Maker nor to speak of him.

Whi