every day--even _here_, although it _is_ cold enough sometimes to freeze
up one's very ideas."

"Dear me," interrupted Harry Somerville, looking as if a new thought had
struck him, "that must be it! I've no doubt that poor Hamilton's ideas
are _frozen_, which accounts for the total absence of any indication of
his possessing such things."

"I observed," continued the skipper, not noticing the interruption,
"that the glass was down at 45 degrees below zero this morning, and put
out a bullet-mould full of mercury, and you see the result." As he
spoke he held up the perforated plank in triumph.

The skipper was a strange mixture of qualities. To a wild, offhand,
sailor-like hilarity of disposition in hours of leisure, he united a
grave, stern energy of character while employed in the performance of
his duties. Duty was always paramount with him. A smile could scarcely
be extracted from him while it was in the course of performance. But
the instant his work was done a new spirit seemed to take possession of
the man. Fun, mischief of any kind, no matter how childish, he entered
into with the greatest delight and enthusiasm. Among other
peculiarities, he had become deeply imbued with a thirst for scientific
knowledge, ever since he had acquired, with infinite labour, the small
modicum of science necessary to navigation; and his doings in pursuit of
statistical information relative to the weather, and the phenomena of
nature generally, were very peculiar, and in some cases outrageous. His
transaction with the quicksilver was in consequence of an eager desire
to see that metal frozen (an effect which takes place when the
spirit-of-wine thermometer falls to 39 degrees below zero of
Fahrenheit), and a wish to be able to boast of having actually fired a
mercurial bullet through an inch plank. Having made a careful note of
the fact, with all the relative circumstances attending it, in a very
much blotted book, which he denominated his scientific log, the worthy
skipper threw off his coat, drew a chair to the stove, and prepared to
regale himself with a pipe. As he glanced slowly round the room while
thus engaged, his eye fell on the mass of snow before alluded to. On
being informed by the doctor for what it was intended, he laid down his
pipe and rose hastily from his chair.

"You've not a moment to lose," said he. "As I came in at the gate just
now, I saw Hamilton coming down the river on the ice, and he must be