altogether; leaving him at the end of three lonely, dreadful years
with exactly half his capital, but double his experience. However
this has nothing to do with my story, except that I can never think
of our skating expedition to that lonely lake, far back among those
terrible hills, without a thrill of compassion for the only living
human being, who dwelt among them.

It was too cold to dawdle about, however, that day. The frost lay
white and hard upon the ground, and we felt that we were cruel in
leaving our poor horses standing to get chilled whilst we amused
ourselves. Although my beloved Helen was not there, having been
exchanged for the day in favour of Master Mouse, a shaggy pony,
whose paces were as rough as its coat, I begged a red blanket from
Mr. K---, and covered up Helen's stable companion, whose sleek skin
spoke of a milder temperature than that on Lake Ida's "gloomy
shore." Our simple arrangements were soon made. Mr. K--- left
directions to his mate to prepare a repast consisting of tea, bread,
and mutton for us, and, each carrying our skates, we made the best
of our way across the frozen tussocks to the lake. Mr. K--- proved
an admirable guide over its surface, for he was in the habit during
the winter of getting all his firewood out of the opposite "bush,"
and bringing it across the lake on sledges drawn by bullocks. We
accused him of having cut up our ice dreadfully by these means; but
he took us to a part of the vast expanse where an unbroken field of
at least ten acres of ice stretched smoothly before us. Here were
no boards marked "DANGEROUS," nor any intimation of the depth of
water beneath. The most timid person could feel no apprehension on
ice which seemed more solid than the earth; so accordingly in a few
moments we had buckled and strapped on our skates, and were skimming
and gliding--and I must add, falling--in all directions. We were