ng a bed-room chair. That I ventured this risk shows how fond of
CECILIA I was. I reached the pond safely, and hid the chair in a dry
ditch. Next day, when presumed to be engaged on literary labours, I
sneaked back, sat down on my chair, and tried to put on the skates.
It always seemed so easy when one saw an expert do it, like Mercury
donning his winged shoon, and sailing over the ice. But my hands grew
blue as I struggled with the key and the nuts, till I became certain
that my boots were in fault.

There was no help for it, I hid my chair in its ditch, and returned,
to take the village cobbler into my confidence. He, good man, rose
to the situation, and pointed out what I had surmised to be the
case, viz., that the heels of my boots were too long to allow the
chisel-edged flange to be adjusted by the lever, and admit at the same
time of the other end of the heel being gripped by the cramps,--but
he promised to whittle away part of the heel, and send the skates home
without delay: and he was as good as his word.

This time I took the precaution of fitting them on in my room. I
walked about in them, and was happy. Next day I got to work again:
gingerly I brought my chair into action, but I was wholly unprepared
for the extreme slipperiness of the ice, even though forewarned to
some extent by the painful experiences of _Mr. Winkle_. I had read
that the skater "is very highly favoured when contending with the
great enemy of motion, viz., friction," a proposition which I found
to be perfectly true. My legs developed separatist tendencies, and
started on independent orbits. Often I found myself sitting down in
a position affected by acrobats, but unusual in Society. As for the
chair, it would rear and plunge like a horse, or escape across the
ice, where I had to crawl to it on my knees. It was while thus engaged
that I heard a sound of female voices, and, lo! there were CECILIA and
two other girls, who had heard of this pond in the wood, and come to
try it. I presented a singular spectacle, kneeling before a bed-room
chair in the middle of a lonely pond. They laughed, a lover should
never be ridiculous, but how could I help it! I thought it best to
be frank, indeed, what excuse could I make, what explanation could I
offer? In the evening I told CECILIA that I had undergone all this for
her sake; that, expert in other pastimes (except dancing), I had hoped
to make myself more worthy of "figuring" in her society. But, as a