This time I took the precaution of fitting them on in my room. I walked about in them, and was happy. Next day I got to work again: gingerly I brought my chair into action, but I was wholly unprepared for the extreme slipperiness of the ice, even though forewarned to some extent by the painful experiences of _Mr. Winkle_. I had read that the skater "is very highly favoured when contending with the great enemy of motion, viz., friction," a proposition which I found to be perfectly true. My legs developed separatist tendencies, and started on independent orbits. Often I found myself sitting down in a position affected by acrobats, but unusual in Society. As for the chair, it would rear and plunge like a horse, or escape across the ice, where I had to crawl to it on my knees. It was while thus engaged that I heard a sound of female voices, and, lo! there were CECILIA and two other girls, who had heard of this pond in the wood, and come to try it. I presented a singular spectacle, kneeling before a bed-room chair in the middle of a lonely pond. They laughed, a lover should never be ridiculous, but how could I help it! I thought it best to be frank, indeed, what excuse could I make, what explanation could I offer? In the evening I told CECILIA that I had undergone all this for her sake; that, expert in other pastimes (except dancing), I had hoped to make myself more worthy of "figuring" in her society. But, as a matter of fact, I never got so far as figures. Next day there was a thaw, and soon I had an opportunity of riding with CECILIA. It was "The Last Ride Together," as in Mr. BROWNING. I don't like to speak about it. When we got off the road on to the turf my horse began to kick and plunge. I have read that it is not right, but I did what I always do, I held on by the pummel. Would _you_ not hold on by the carpet, in an earthquake. It felt like a young and lively earthquake. We came home soon, _CECILIA leading my horse_. People staying in the house met us. I did not propose to CECILIA. I thought, like _Sir Andrew Aguecheek_, "It is four to one she'll none of me." Nay, the odds were probably even longer. Ah, CECILIA, if these lines meet thine eyes, thou wilt know that one heart still is true. In another life, less begirt by material difficulties, we may meet amongst the asphodel, where there is no opportunity for the display of mere mechanical accomplishments. Till then, _au revoir_! * * * * * APPROPRIATE.--At Nancy, the Maire pledged the Czech gymnasts, in a goblet of Pommery. Their chief, returning thanks in French, with a strong Bohemian accent, remarked that he took this as a great compliment to his own nationality, the champagne being "_très Czech_." * * * * * [Illustration: TROP DE ZÈLE. (_An Aristocratic Tip._)