I hesitated for a moment at the idea of lying down in the water on the back of a seal, but I came down the rock and stretched myself out on his back and clung to him with my arms and legs as well as I could. _A Sea Journey on the Back of a Seal_ “Hold on tight,” said the seal, and darted off across the sea so suddenly that I lost my grip and fell off into the water; but he swam under me, and I was soon on his back once more, none the worse. “What’s the matter?” said the seal. “Haven’t you any strength? I suppose I’ll have to go slower.” He glided slowly and smoothly over the long swells, and as soon as I got used to it I found that it was really wonderful sport. We followed the shore line quite around the island to its opposite side, and then the seal made straight for the open sea. The shore faded away behind us, and at last it was gone. Hours passed, and I grew stiff and cold. I slipped off the seal’s back now and then, for the exercise of swimming. It was excessively difficult to hold on to his slippery skin, and I ached so painfully with the strain that I feared at last that I should have to let go for good; and I was about to give up, when I saw afar off on the horizon what looked like land. The seal swam faster. I took new courage, and clung to him tighter. It was indeed land,--evidently an island; and as we came close to it I could make out in its side a deep cove, backed with dark, woody hills and flanked on either side by rocky cliffs. Fishing boats of all sizes were moored in the cove, and a large village straggled up the hillside behind. The seal glided into the smooth water between the cliffs, and slid up against the sand of the beach at the foot of the village. It was just twilight. I jumped to my feet and stretched my numb and aching limbs, gazing with curiosity at the near-by houses. I turned round at the sound of the seal’s voice. “Can you get me a custard pie?” said the seal. “What?” said I, in astonishment. “There’s a pastry cook in the village. I’ll wait for you here. Mince pie’ll do, if they’re out of custard.” I hastened away into the village, without saying anything more. _The Village of Storks_ It was a large village, and there were a good many streets; and before I found the pastry cook’s shop I paused to look at the strange collection of birds which adorned the housetops. On nearly every chimney or ridgepole stood a stork, and on some were two or three, and even more; young storks all of them, judging by their size. I noticed, as I passed the villagers in the street, that their faces were very sad; and I thought it singular that although I saw many grown people, I met no children, and heard no children’s voices.