soft voice said in his ear, "Have good courage, uncle"

Andre Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever

On the 12th September the sea consisted of one solid plain

They found themselves in a most perilous position, for an
icequake had occurred

Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation

The caravan set out

"Thirty-two degrees below zero!"

Despair and determination were struggling in his rough features
for the mastery

It was Louis Cornbutte

Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians

Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but he
did not reply

Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old
Jean Cornbutte

The bear, having descended from the mast, had fallen on the two
men

The old cure received Louis Cornbutte and Marie

View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent

View of Bossons glacier, near the Grands-Mulets

Passage of the Bossons Glacier

Crevasse and bridge

View of the "Seracs"

View of "Seracs"

Passage of the "Junction"

Hut at the Grands-Mulets

View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets

Crossing the plateau

Summit of Mont Blanc

Grands-Mulets:--Party descending from the hut

DOCTOR OX'S EXPERIMENT.

CHAPTER I.

HOW IT IS USELESS TO SEEK, EVEN ON THE BEST MAPS, FOR THE SMALL TOWN
OF QUIQUENDONE.

If you try to find, on any map of Flanders, ancient or modern,
the small town of Quiquendone, probably you will not succeed. Is
Quiquendone, then, one of those towns which have disappeared? No.
A town of the future? By no means. It exists in spite of
geographies, and has done so for some eight or nine hundred
years. It even numbers two thousand three hundred and ninety-three
souls, allowing one soul to each inhabitant. It is situated
thirteen and a half kilometres north-west of Oudenarde, and
fifteen and a quarter kilometres south-east of Bruges, in the
heart of Flanders. The Vaar, a small tributary of the Scheldt,
passes beneath its three bridges, which are still covered with a
quaint mediaeval roof, like that at Tournay. An old chateau is to
be seen there, the first stone of which was laid so long ago as
1197, by Count Baldwin, afterwards Emperor of Constantinople; and
there is a Town Hall, with Gothic windows, crowned by a chaplet
of battlements, and surrounded by a turreted belfry, which rises
three hundred and fifty-seven feet above the soil. Every hour you
may hear there a chime of five octaves, a veritable aeria