that my boots were in fault.

There was no help for it, I hid my chair in its ditch, and returned,
to take the village cobbler into my confidence. He, good man, rose
to the situation, and pointed out what I had surmised to be the
case, viz., that the heels of my boots were too long to allow the
chisel-edged flange to be adjusted by the lever, and admit at the same
time of the other end of the heel being gripped by the cramps,--but
he promised to whittle away part of the heel, and send the skates home
without delay: and he was as good as his word.

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