covered the sides of the rocks with bright crystals.  All the feathered tribes took their departure for less rigorous climes, with the exception of a small white bird about the size of a sparrow, called the snow-bird, which is the last to leave the icy North.  Then a tremendous storm arose, and the sea became choked up with icebergs and floes, which the frost soon locked together into a solid mass.  Towards the close of the storm snow fell in great abundance, and when the mariners ventured again to put their heads up the opened hatchways, the decks were knee-deep, the drift to windward was almost level with the bulwarks, every yard was edged with white, every rope and cord had a light side and a dark, every point and truck had a white button on it, and every hole, corner, crack, and crevice was choked up.

The land and the sea were also clothed with this spotless garment, which is indeed a strikingly appropriate emblem of purity, and the only dark objects visible in the landscape were those precipices which were too steep for the snow to lie on, the towering form of the giant flagstaff, and the leaden clouds that rolled angrily across the sky.  But these leaden clouds soon rolled off, leaving a blue wintry sky and a bright sun behind.

The storm blew itself out early in the morning, and at breakfast-time on that day, when the sun was just struggling with the last of the clouds, Captain Guy remarked to his friends who were seated round the cabin table, “Well, gentlemen, we must begin hard work to-day.”

“Hard work, captain!” exclaimed Fred Ellice, pausing for a second or two in the hard work of chewing a piece of hard salt junk; “why, what do you call the work we’ve been engaged in for the last few weeks?”

“Play, my lad; that was only play—­just to bring our hands in, before setting to work in earnest!—­What do you think of the health of the men, doctor?”

“Never was better; but I fear the hospital will soon fill if you carry out your threat in regard to work.”

“No fear,” remarked the second mate; “the more work the better health is my experience.  Busy men have no time to git seek.”

“No doubt of it, sir,” said the first mate, bolting a large mouthful of pork.  “Nothing so good for ’em as work.”

“There are two against you, doctor,” said the captain.

“Then it’s two to two,” cried Fred, as he finished breakfast; “for I quite agree with Tom, and with that excellent proverb which says, ’All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”

The captain shook his head as he said, “Of all the nuisances I ever met with in a ship a semi-passenger is the worst.  I think, Fred, I must get you bound apprentice and give you regular work to do, you good-for-nothing.”

We need scarcely say that the captain jested, for Fred was possessed of a spirit that cannot rest, so to speak, unless at work.  He was able to do almost anything after a fashion, and was never idle for a moment.  Even when his hands chanced to be unemployed, his brows were knitted, busily planning what to do next.