climbs, nail by nail, step by step, and stirrup by stirrup, till
his starting-point is undistinguished from the golden surface, and the
spire dwindles in his embrace till he can clasp it all round.

So far, so well. But he now reaches the ball--a globe of between nine
and ten feet in circumference. The angel, the object of this visit, is
above this ball, and concealed from his view by its smooth, round, and
glittering expanse. Only fancy the wretch at this moment, turning up
his grave eyes, and graver beard, to an obstacle that seems to defy
the daring and intrepidity of man!

[Illustration: THE SEA.]

But Telouchkine is not dismayed. He is prepared for the difficulty;
and the means he used to surmount it exhibits the same remarkable
simplicity as the rest of the feat.

Suspending himself in his stirrups, he girds the "needle" with a cord,
the ends of which he fastens around his waist; and so supported, he
leans gradually back, till the soles of his feet are planted against
the spire. In this position, he throws, by a strong effort, a coil of
cord over the ball; and so coolly and accurately is the aim taken,
that at the first trial it falls in the required direction, and he
sees the end hang down on the opposite side.

To draw himself into his original position, to fasten the cord firmly
around the globe, and with the assistance of this auxiliary to climb
to the summit, is now an easy part of his task; and in a few minutes
more Telouchkine stands by the side of the angel, and listens to the
shout that bursts like sudden thunder from the concourse below, yet
comes to his ear only like a faint and hollow murmur.

The cord, which he had an opportunity of fastening properly, enabled
him to descend with comparative facility; and the next day he carried
up with him a ladder of ropes, by means of which he found it easy to
effect the necessary repairs.

THE WORLD.

Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world,
With the wonderful water around you curled,
And the wonderful grass on your breast--
World, you are beautifully dressed.

The wonderful air is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

You friendly Earth, how far do you go,
With the wheat-fields that nod, and the rivers that flow,
With cities, and gardens, and cliffs, and isles,
And people upon you for th