t together, eh?'

'Yes; come on--no use thinking--we will go for it; I will give you a
lead. Hold out your coat to me and pull me in if I fall short.'

Tom took a good run, got up a great speed, and launched himself into the
air. He must have cleared eight or ten feet at least. 'Come on!' he
laughed, 'it's as easy as winking.'

I must confess that I was more than a little frightened as I prepared to
follow my daring cousin. I imitated his methods as closely as I could; I
got a terrific speed up and let myself go.

I cleared the open water easily, but so great was my impetus that I
turned head over heels at the other side, and lay panting and laughing
on the ice.

Presently we were in full sweep once more towards Cronstadt; we reached
the 'half-way house' without adventure; this was a little wooden hut
built on the ice for the accommodation of travellers in need of shelter
or warmth. It was kept by a man and his wife, who must have found it a
weird house to live in all the winter.

'We heard wolves last night,' they told us; 'get back before dusk if you
are wise!'

We thought little of the warning. We meant to be home by daylight. As
for the wolves, they would have to be active animals to keep up with us
at our pace!

Having enjoyed a cup of coffee and a cake apiece we continued our
journey, and a few miles beyond the rest-house, came across another
fissure which we calculated to be ten feet across.

By this time we were reckless, or very over confident. 'My turn to give
you a lead!' said I, and suiting the action to the words, I worked up
pace, flew out, and cleared the black water with ease. Tom followed and
cleared it also, but in alighting he twisted his ankle a little. He
uttered an exclamation of pain and sat down a moment, rubbing his leg.
He said it was nothing serious, however, and indeed, he was up and off
again in a few moments.

(_Concluded on page 406._)

AN IMPRESSION OF ZANZIBAR.

A curious sight is told of by a gentleman who was lately in Zanzibar.
'Perhaps the most vivid impression that I brought away from my hurried
visit to Zanzibar,' he says, 'was that of seeing the native carpenters
in the Cathedral carving the memorial to Bishop Smythies, and planing
with their toes, which were decked with silver rings!'

THE WRECK OF THE 'HOPE.'

A True Story.

'What a lovely day!' said Eileen, as she sat by her little brother's
side, whilst John, the old boatman, rowed them acro