g over the angry sea, cutting the foam in flecks from the waves,
and whistling, as if in baffled fury, among the opposing crags.

"Isn't it a grand sight?" said Phil, as they sought shelter under the
lee of a projecting rock.

"Glorious! I never look upon that sight," said Aspel, with flashing
eyes, "without wishing that I had lived in the days of the old Vikings."

The youth traced his descent from the sea-kings of Norway--those
tremendous fellows who were wont in days of yore to ravage the shores of
the known and unknown world, east and west, north and south, leaving
their indelible mark alike on the hot sands of Africa and the icebound
rocks of Greenland. As Phil Maylands knew nothing of his own lineage
further back than his grandfather, he was free to admire the immense
antiquity of his friend's genealogical tree. Phil was not, however, so
completely under the fascination of his hero as to be utterly blind to
his faults; but he loved him, and that sufficed to cover them up.

"Sure, they were a wild lot, after all?" he said in a questioning tone,
as he looked up at the glowing countenance of his friend, who, with his
bold mien, bulky frame, blue eyes, and fair curls, would have made a
very creditable Viking indeed, had he lived in the tenth century.

"Of course they were, Phil," he replied, looking down at his admirer
with a smile. "Men could not well be otherwise than wild and warlike in
those days; but it was not all ravage and plunder with them. Why, it is
to them and to their wise laws that we owe much of the freedom, coupled
with the order, that prevails in our happy land; and didn't they cross
the Atlantic Ocean in things little better than herring-boats, without
chart or compass, and discover America long before Columbus was born?"

"You don't mean that?" said Phil, with increased admiration; for the boy
was not only smitten by his friend's physical powers, but by his
supposed intellectual attainments.

"Yes, I do mean that," returned Aspel. "If the Norsemen of old did
mischief, as no one can deny, they were undoubtedly grand old
scoundrels, and it is certain that they did much good to the world,
whether they meant it or not."

Phil Maylands made no reply, but continued to look meditatively at his
friend, until the latter laughed, and asked what he was thinking about.

"It's thinking I am, what I wouldn't give if my legs were only as long
as yours, George."

"That they will soon be," returned G