er gone like this before. Striking out firmly from the start,
he went round the sheet of ice in splendid curves, the outside edge
coming naturally to him now. A long sweep on the right foot, a long
sweep on the left, round and round, with arms folded or clasped behind
him. Not a trip, not a stumble, not a momentary struggle to retain the
balance. It was splendid! Then at last he began with the circles which
he was so anxious to perfect himself in. Round he went on his right, in
smaller compass than he had ever accomplished one yet, with plenty of
impetus to bring him round at the end. Then round on the left, quite
easily, without an effort. Again with the right, and so on, a capital
eight. It was like magic, as if he had acquired the art in an instant.
Or was he in bed and dreaming that he was skating? It really seemed
like it. If it were so, he did not care how long it was before he was
roused. But no, he was wide awake, and the phenomenon was simply the
result of confidence, following on good and persevering practice in the
right direction. Breaking away from his eight, he swung round and round
the pond again as fast as he could go. Then he tried a three; the first
half on the outside edge, forwards was easy enough, and he found no
difficulty in turning on the toe, but he could not complete the tail on
the inside edge backwards without staggering and wobbling. He had a
good two hours of it, and then the moon disappeared behind a bank of
clouds and he prepared to go home. Skating in the dark would be poor
fun, and besides it was very late, so he made for the bank, took his
skates off, and jogged back.

Mr Rabbits, one of the masters, who was great at chemistry, and could
tell you to a grain how much poison you swallowed in that water for
which the Gradus sarcastically gives _pura_ as a standing epithet, had
been asked by the vicar of Penredding, a village five miles off, to give
a lecture in his school-room to the parishioners, one of a series of
simple entertainments which were got up to cheer the long evenings in
the winter months. The vicar was an old college friend of Mr Rabbits,
who gladly consented, and like a wise man chose the subject which he was
best up in, writing a very amusing and instructive but very elementary
paper on Light, with plenty of illustrations and simple experiments,
which kept his audience in a state of wonder and delight the whole
evening, and sent them home with plenty to th