them to go into the sea or the
rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew
from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most
pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of
vigour, and extreme hilarity that always followed my bathes in the sea--
and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub--were so
delightful that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than
without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking
whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they
answer "No", they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once.
Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which
I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called
the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system; so I do
not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in
reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good
thing--I know not. But of this I am quite certain, that there may also
be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold
bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think
that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one's self
with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but
I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound
modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of
confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and
fittest in reference to their own affairs. But to return from this
digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness.

We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were
just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies
vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new
and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the
appalling cry which had so alarmed us a few nights before. But this
time we were by no means so much alarmed as on the previous occasion,
because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have
always found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight
banishes many of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark.

On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear.

"Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what