The World of Ice by R. M. (Robert Michael) Ballantyne
page 35 of 284 (12%)
page 35 of 284 (12%)
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the sea was covered with islands and fields of ice of every conceivable
shape. Some rose in little peaks and pinnacles, some floated in the form of arches and domes, some were broken and rugged like the ruins of old border strongholds, while others were flat and level like fields of white marble; and so calm was it, that the ocean in which they floated seemed like a groundwork of polished steel, in which the sun shone with dazzling brilliancy. The tops of the icy islets were pure white, and the sides of the higher ones of a delicate blue colour, which gave to the scene a transparent lightness that rendered it pre-eminently fairy-like. "It far surpasses anything I ever conceived," ejaculated Singleton after a long silence. "No wonder that authors speak of scenes being indescribable. Does it not seem like a dream, Fred?" "Tom," replied Fred earnestly, "I've been trying to fancy myself in another world, and I have almost succeeded. When I look long and intently at the ice, I get almost to believe that these are streets, and palaces, and cathedrals. I never felt so strong a desire to have wings that I might fly from one island to another, and go floating in and out and round about those blue caves and sparkling pinnacles." "It's a curious fancy, Fred, but not unnatural." "Tom," said Fred after another long silence, "has not the thought occurred to you that God made it all?" "Some such thought did cross my mind, Fred, for a moment, but it soon passed away. Is it not _very_ strange that the idea of the Creator is so seldom and so slightly connected with his works in our minds?" |
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