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Beyond a rapid thought of self-congratulation that such "cold country" was not on their run, they did not feel affected by its eternal silence and gloom. The ice would bear, and what more could skater's heart desire?
There was the brilliant Ralph Maxwell, whose jests, stinging and slight, just glanced over the surface of society without inflicting a wound, even as the skater's heel glides over ice, leaving its mark as it goes, yet breaking no crust of frost; and there was the poetic dreamer Dartmore, with his large, dark eyes, and moonlight face, and manner of suffering serenity, on his way to put forth for fame, as he fondly believed, his manuscript epic on the "Sorrows of the South."
Consequently my entrance drew a disquieting fire of observation. The mirrors, reflectors, and girandoles had eyes for me; and as I advanced up the perspective of waxed floor, the very boards winked detection. A little Master of Ceremonies, as round as the rosette on his lapel, detached himself from the nearest group, and approached with something of a skater's motion and an insinuating smile.
First on the right foot, they shot well toward the shore on that side, then bending gracefully to the left, the weight was thrown on that limb, the impetus being imparted to the body without any apparent effort, after the manner of a master of the skater's art. These, sweeping forward, were many rods in length, the polished steel frequently giving out a metallic ring as it struck the flinty ice.
A few years ago the height of the skater's art was so called "fancy or figure" skating, but recently the tendency has been for speed rather than for grace and the old-fashioned club skates have been replaced by racing or hockey skates with much longer runners. Fancy skating for prizes is governed by rules just as any other game or sport.
The temptation to stop half-way is almost irresistible, and then there occurs a complicated fall, which makes the petrified spectator ask where may be the skater's body "which are legs, and which are arms?"
I took his watch and his purse, and he went down the bank and walked on to the ice; but after a time his feet went through as the skater's head had gone. "It ain't a bit of use. There's nought to be done," said the bystanders: for, except those who had run to do Mr. Wood's bidding, we were all watching and all huddled closer to the edge than ever.
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