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the limits of human skill. Yet it was only one of those million wonderful effects of sky and sea which are common in Norway, especially on the Altenfjord, where, though beyond the Arctic circle, the climate in summer is that of another Italy, and the landscape a living poem fairer than the visions of Endymion.

There was one solitary watcher of the splendid spectacle. This was a man of refined features and aristocratic appearance, who, reclining on a large rug of skins which he had thrown down on the shore for that purpose, was gazing at the pageant of the midnight sun and all its stately surroundings, with an earnest and rapt expression in his clear hazel eyes.

“Glorious! beyond all expectation, glorious!” he murmured half aloud, as he consulted his watch and saw that the hands marked exactly twelve on the dial. “I believe I’m having the best of it, after all. Even if those fellows get the Eulalie into good position they will see nothing finer than this.”

As he spoke he raised his field-g