There is no reason why the average country club of the northern part of the United States or Canada should close up shop and hibernate during the winter. Some few pioneering clubs have already demonstrated that there is as much interest in sports of the winter as in those of the summer, and they are keeping open house all the year round. Some of the methods which are employed to interest the membership and provide what that membership desires in the way winter pastimes may be of value to other organizations.

A toboggan slide will interest a very large proportion of the membership and can generally be managed on such a basis as to pay for itself, or at least for its maintenance. This has been the experience of the famous Ardsley Country Club, Ardsley, N.Y., which even went to the extreme of bringing to its club a recognized tobogganing expert of Canada, who directed the construction of its slide, and manages the rental of the toboggans and the maintenance of the slide. Almost any hilly country is adapted to the erection of a toboggan slide, and with a slight artificial stand with which to create initial impetus, a fine slide can be arranged. In small towns and sparsely settled communities it is often possible to arrange with the authorities for the use of one of the roads for certain hours or certain days, and with the placing of watchers at cross roads some of the magnificent sport which Switzerland enjoys in the way of coasting ought to be possible. 

​The construction of an ice rink is easy where there is either a small brook nearby or water piped to the vicinity. Tennis courts are often used as the foundation of ice rinks, and serve admirably, but the water must be drawn off at the first approach of spring or the field will remain soft for an uncomfortably long time. The better plan is to have a special field for the ice rink, lay clay foundation and make side walls of 8 or 10 inches in height. When the first cold weather comes spray the field with a fine rose spray flung high in the air so that it freezes immediately upon touching the ground. Do not flood any skating field unless you want shell ice, at least not in the vicinity of New York or any place of similar average temperature. Of course, where there is a running brook, the building of a low dam, often merely 2 or 3 feet in height, will serve to back the water up over lowlands and provide a very satisfactory skating field during steady cold weather. A flood-gate should be put in the dam, however, so as to raise the level at any time, and thus create a new skating surface and get rid of the snow. It is most important that when snow has fallen on a skating field it must not be walked over, since the hardened footprints will remain and form annoying lumps, even after the balance of the snow has melted. It is much better to remove all snow as it falls, however, unless the size of the field is too large. Skating on ice which has been formed by spraying onto clay bottom may begin when 1 inch of ice has been formed. Where ice forms over water, the following thicknesses are necessary for various weights; 2 inches will sustain a man or properly spaced infantry; 4 inches will sustain a horse; 6 inches will sustain crowds in motion; 8 inches will sustain men, carriages, and horses; 15 inches will sustain passenger trains. Ice which is disintegrated by the action of salt water loses nearly 50 per cent. of its sustaining strength. It is now generally calculated that the large free skating coming into popularity in this country, and known as the International style, requires a rink of about 25 by 50 feet for a dozen persons.

​Editor's Note: The following is a verbatim transcription of a chapter from Spalding's Winter Sports by James A. Cruikshank, published in 1917 and part of the Ray Ruge Collection at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. Many thanks to volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing this booklet.

Where winter is at all reliable, and snow and ice can be confidently counted upon in advance, no outdoor festival of the whole year will furnish such invariable delight as the winter carnival. There seems to be some unique quality about winter which stimulates to merriment and enthusiasm. It is something more than the scientific fact that one-seventh more oxygen is found in the cold air of winter than in the warm air of summer. The same group of young people will reveal in winter depths of fun and prankish tendencies unsuspected by any actions of the summer time. Staid matrons have been known to try the turkey trot on snowshoes who never tried it anywhere else; and contributing thereby entertainment which neither they nor their friends ever before suspected them capable of. Nobody stands about in wallflower pose when the winter carnival is on.

Canada started the world on the winter carnival. And then, because some of the thoughtless folks whom she desired as settlers and immigrants got the mistaken idea that Canada was a land of snow and ice, she suddenly dropped the thing. Now, with a better knowledge of her magnificent climate spread abroad all over the world, she has sensibly gone back to the enjoyment of those delightful and exhilarating winter pastimes which no other people on earth know so well how to arrange and participate in, and she again welcomes the seeker after winter joys. There is inspiration and information for every lover of winter joys in even the briefest visit to the Dominion during the couple of cold months of the year. Perhaps the presence there of so much of the French gayety and vivacity reveals the secret of her wonderful success in the carnivals of winter.

​But Canada is no longer the exclusive authority upon the enjoyment of winter. Switzerland, Norway, and some parts of the United States are but little behind in fostering the winter carnival. it is an unquestioned truth that nowhere in the world is there larger interest in winter pastimes than in the United States.
 
Country clubs, outdoor organizations of all kinds, even groups of serious folks interested primarily in the betterment of the locality or the town in which they live, and in some few cases town governments themselves, are now aware of the delightful vacations which may be enjoyed by merely taking advantage of the local presence of cold weather and snow. On Long Island, New York State, in recent years there has been an illustration of this spirit to the extent of closing the schools when the big bob-sled races with the neighboring town take place, just as in sunny California the schools are often closed when snow falls in order to let the youngsters revel in its unusual beauty. 

All a big winter carnival needs, given the right sort of winter, is a moving spirit. Let somebody start the thing and the expression of interest will be immediate, and support will be generous. The very novelty of the affair will attract attention and draw people. And once it has been successfully carried out there will be large demands for its repetition. The famous ice palaces of Montreal, with their accompanying picturesque carnivals, did not die for lack of interest or patronage; they were killed intentionally, because they carried a wrong impression to the balance of the world. In time they will be revived.
 
An ice palace sounds elaborate and difficult, but it need be neither. Blocks of ice or a foundation of a wooden structure upon which streams of water are played may be employed to create a structure big enough for the sport of attack and defense by armies on snowshoes and skiis, carrying torches and burning red fire. Exceedingly interesting effects can be obtained at very slight expense, providing of course that the local weather man can be relied upon to furnish his part in the program.
 
There may be moonlight snowshoe tramps over the hills, snowshoe races where start and finish are in front of a grand-stand, or in the center of a rink, where folks can keep moving, ski races and ski coasting, skating exhibitions, costume skating with prizes for the best costume representative of winter; skating races, couple skating in fancy movements or speed contests, fancy dancing on skates, individual and couple; parade of decorated sleighs, floats, sleds, or toboggans; parades of snowshoers, ski runners, and skaters in costume.

​Any number of most interesting events can be run off on an ice field, such as hoop races, wheelbarrow races, potato races, snow shovel races, where the men drag the girls one-half the distance and the girls drag the men the other half; night-shirt races, where the girls aid the men to get into a night-shirt, the men skate a short distance and then the girls aid them to get out of the night-shirt; necktie and cigarette races in similar fashion; ski races, where the men or women are drawn by horses; snowshoe obstacle races, getting through a barrel, over a fence, climbing a rope ladder; toboggan races, in which two persons sit on the toboggan and propel it by hands or feet over the ice; and lanterns of all kinds everywhere, electric illumination. If it can be arranged, colored fire, torches, toboggans rigged with tiny batteries and carrying individual insignia and emblems, costumes similarly lighted, topped off by the moonlight.

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

Editor's Note: The following is a verbatim transcription of a chapter from Spalding's Winter Sports by James A. Cruikshank, published in 1917 and part of the Ray Ruge Collection at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. Many thanks to volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing this booklet.

The modern skate, briefly described, is of two kinds and several patterns. One is intended for speed skating and the other for figure skating. The best pattern for speed skating consists of a very thin, extremely hard, flat, steel blade, tapered from one-sixteenth of an inch at toe to one thirty-second of an inch at heel, fourteen and one-half and fifteen and one-half inches in length, set in a hollow steel tube, from which hollow steel supports or uprights run to the metal foot-plates, which are in turn riveted to a thin, close fitting shoe having no heel. Some of the fastest speed skaters still use the old fashioned wood top skate screwed to the heel of the shoe when the ice is reached and fastened over the toes with straps; but this pattern is rapidly going out of vogue. The hockey skate, used in that game and now of great popularity among skaters of all ages and classes and sexes, whether they play hockey or not, consists of a flat blade, with either three or four uprights or stanchions running to the metal foot-plate screwed or riveted to the shoe. The length of the blade depends upon the length of the skater’s foot. This skate is generally very slightly curved where the blade rests upon the ice, making quick turns and sharp curves possible. It is an excellent skate with which to learn the art of skating, but after the beginner has learned to feel fairly safe should be changed for the rocker skate or figure skate, if further progress in the sport of Figure Skating is an object. It is unfortunate that so many young people take up the flat-blade skate, either of the hockey or racing pattern, and then persistently stick to that pattern, since no general advancement in the achievement of curves and patterns is ever possible to the user of the flat-blade skate.

​Undoubtedly the best pattern for the figure skate is that which was taken to Europe by Jackson Haines, the American skater, in 1865, and adopted by almost every European skater of fame from that day to this. With  the revival of skating in the United States, and especially the Continental or “fancy” style, has come a demand for a skate best suited to the graceful figures that render this form of the art so attractive. This old, yet new, skate has but two uprights or stanchions from the blade to the foot or heel plates, the blade curves over in front so as almost to touch the shoe; there is considerably greater distance from the skater’s heel to the ice than in former patterns, and larger radius of the curve of the blade where it rests upon the ice. The blade is splayed, or wider in the middle than at the toe and heel, and there are deep knife edge corrugations at the toe for pirouettes and toe movements. This is the skate which is now being used by the best skaters of the world, and the only pattern on which the larger, freer, bird-like movements so characteristic of the best skaters of Europe, are possible. It is an interesting fact that this skate is now the recognized standard of the leading instructors and experts in Figure Skating in all the prominent rinks and in theatrical attractions in which ice spectacles are a feature.

​Skating, whether the beginner has in mind speed or figure work, is best learned without human aid. An old, strong chair, to the legs of which have been fastened wooden runners, is the best of all devices for starting the young skater on the right balance and contributing to his self reliance and confidence. Very early in the attempts at the sport, the beginner will decide whether he is interested in Speed or Figure Skating, and he is then urged to select the correct outfit rather than adopt habits which it will be difficult later to break. There are scores of skaters now using the flat blade hockey or racing skate who will never achieve satisfactory speed, but who are peculiarly adapted to success in Figure Skating. Speed Skating is interesting for a time, and hockey is a splendid athletic game, but the figure skater has a pastime and an athletic pursuit which will interest him for a lifetime, and in which there are intricacies as fascinating as a geometrical puzzle. There are excellent books on the new forms of Figure Skating now available, the latest of which, Mr. Irving Brokaw’s “Art of Skating” and “Figure Skating for Women,” published in the Spalding Athletic Library, should be in the hands of every lover of the sport.

After the beginner has attained some measure of confidence, the skate sail will be found a most interesting diversion and addition to the sport. There are many patterns of skate sails. The simplest, as well as one of the best is the rectangular pattern, fashioned of two uprights at the fore and aft ends of the sail with a cross piece as spreader. The size of this sail will depend on the designer and the sport he seeks. The average size recommended for an expert skater would be 6 to 7 feet in height and 10 to 12 feet in width. The wooden spars at the bends should be of pine or spruce, squared, thicker in the middle than at the ends, and of one piece. The center spreader may be jointed or hinged. The best material for the sail is either unbleached muslin, which is very cheap, or the best sea island cotton, known as “balloon silk.” In the sail can be set an oval or circle of celluloid as a window through which the skate sailor may watch his course. 

The skate sail described can be made by almost any amateur, will cost less than five dollars, and will return more sport for its cost than almost any other winter sport implement. There are many other patterns of skate sails, the next best being the triangular or pyramid shape with the base of the pyramid parallel with the skater and the long end of the sail stretching out behind. The right dimensions for such a sail for the average person will be about 9 feet for the upright spar and 10 to 12 feet for the boom. The spars can be made of heavy bamboo, and by means of a small pulley over the forward end of the boom the sail can be stretched taut. There is another foreign pattern sail which has a boom stretching across the two end spars and projecting beyond them a foot or so. Such a model requires a larger field of ice than those which have been described.

Uninformed advisers recommend the flat blade skate for Skate Sailing. They are wrong, because sharp turns and curves have to be made for successful Skate Sailing. The best skate for the sport is either the regulation figure skate or a hockey skate having a curved blade. The skate sail ought to be used only where there is ample freedom; it is not adapted to small skating ponds or rinks since high speed is frequently developed, even up to thirty miles an hour, and dangerous accidents may occur.

Anyone can learn the use of the skate sail with a few hours’ practice. Unlike the ice boat, which it so much resembles, tacking is done exactly the same as with a small boat, with the exception that when the sailor is ready to “come about” he simply throws the sail up over his head, makes his right angle turn into the new course and the sail comes down in correct position. It is also possible to shift the sail forward while under full speed until it is past the center, then slip it from one side of the body to the other, make the turn into the new course, and continue on the new tack. Magnificent competitive sport can be had with the skate sail by organizing “one design classes,” just as in small boat sailing, so that every sailor has similar equipment and there are no odds. Differences in weight of the contestants will be about equalized by the advantage of weight in one position of sailing as against its disadvantages in another.
​
Women pick up the sport readily and find it most interesting. Many a woman has learned from the skate sail, for the first time, that she really can handle a sail so that she is able to get back to the place from which she started by the otherwise incomprehensible route known in yachting as “tacking.” Warm gloves, tight fitting clothing, and some sort of face protection are advisable for this sport.

What do you think of James A. Cruikshank's encouraging women to take up ice skating? Did you ice skate as a kid? Do you still?

Stay tuned next week for our next chapter.

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

Editor's Note: This account is from the February 23, 1879 New York Times. The tone of the article reflects the time period in which it was written.

"A Winter Ramble Over The Surface of the Hudson – Fishing Through The Ice – A Trap for Ice-Yachts – Trying Speed With Thought – Looking Down Upon A Winter Scene
Walking on the surface of the deep is no miracle in our climate. But the experience is quite rare enough to make a vivid impression, especially on those who tread habitually the dull sidewalks of a city. For the mind is haunted by at least a feeling of the miraculous as you walk over a great lake or river. The elements seem to have forgotten their laws, and the whole face of nature is weird when her gleaming eyes turn glassy. This unusual view of nature drew me to visit the Winter scenes on the Hudson. I purposed on this Winter walk to go from Poughkeepsie to Newburg on the ice, through the region renowned for ice-boating; where they hold tournaments for lady skaters; where they trot horses when they cannot row regattas; and where Winter life on the ice may seen in its perfection. I started by skating, and I rested from this by sailing, and walking part of the time, for I have a friend on the way who is a famous iceboat skipper; and we skipped about the river with the speed of the wind. I can scarcely call the trip a walk; for I traveled neither all by water nor by land, nor yet as the fowls of the air. But, however I went, the excursion was delightful with scenes and experiences characteristic of the Winter life of the Hudson.

As I left the dock at Poughkeepsie and skated out over the river, a thrill – almost a shiver – ran through me as I thought of the depths. But a few inches below my feet. Of course, one is not afraid on ice nearly a foot thick, but this unusual relation to deep wide water is unavoidably startling. You say to yourself there is no danger, but you feel to yourself, this is all very queer. The first minutes of my trip were therefore a little chaotic, with the confidence born of other people’s opinions, yet, with my own secret questioning about the ice all the way down my long route. But the exhilaration of the keen Winter morning soon bore away every other feeling. The thermometer marked only 15 degrees; a light west wind blew down over the hills of Ulster County, and the clear air and sunlight made the most distant scenes appear like faultless miniatures. I looked down the river 20 miles, over my whole route. The river near by was a narrow level valley between high banks of bare trees. The hills over-topping the banks were also brown and bare, excepting here and there a patch of snow or a knoll crowned with cedars that added deep shadows to the sober face of nature. The level valley of ice ran straight away to the distance between dark wooded headlands projecting one behind another, and marking in clear perspective the long vista of the river. The valley seemed to end at the foot of the Highlands, which over-topped the whole scene with their majestic heads, now gray with snow under a bare forest. This long level of ice was generally smooth, excepting here and there, a low wandering ridge of projecting edges and cakes at cracks; and the shores were marked by a tide.

Groups of men and boys were seen down the valley, even far off, and a few ice-boats were moving about at Milton, four miles below, and at New-Hamburg, 10 miles off. The mirage was very strong this clear morning, so the boats appeared double, as if one ran on the ice and other under it. The new ice was a curious record of nature in a warm and lenient hour. Jack Frost seemed a tell-tale of his freaks. He had pressed her white flowers; he had preserved her little landscapes modeled in the ice of rivulet, gorge, and bluff; he had caught the wind playing with the ripples and locked them fast, and he had painted the clouds and scattered crystals for the stars.

I soon reached Blue Point, where some fishermen were taking up their nets, and a few boys were grouped about them. Two men at each end of a narrow trench cut through the ice, and hauled up a line. These lines at last brought up a net 12 feet square, with a pole across the bottom, weighted with a stone at each end. The nets are lowered her about 50 feet, or half way to the bottom, and 10 to 20 of them are put down in a row across the current, over a reef or rocky point. The upper ends of the lines are tied to sticks that lie across the open trench, or stand up in the ice. The nets swing off under the ice, by the pressure of the current, and fill out like open bags. Catfish run into them, and are kept there by the current until slack water enables them to leave; but perch and bass are caught by the gills in the two-and-a-quarter-inch meshes. When the nets had all been lifted and put down again, the men picked up the few perch   and young sturgeons, frozen as stiff as sticks, and walked to the shore. There they had a flat-boat decked over for a house. Bunks, stove, and various fishing-tackle filled the little cabin with a chaotic mass. They will launch their boat when the ice leaves, and float up or down then river as inclination may direct. In good seasons this ice-fishing yields often 50 pounds of fish at a lift, the men make about $10 per day with 20 nets. This year the fishing here is very poor, for the great freshet of the Fall carried the bass down to Haverstraw Bay.
​
I left the fishermen of Blue Point, and skated down the opposite shore. The bluffs along the railroad cuts were hung with great icicles, some of them 8 or 10 feet long. Every projecting ledge of some cliffs, from top to bottom, was decked with these splendid crystals, flashing in the sunlight. And at their feet, the twigs and rocks were covered with round forms of quaint shapes. While I stood there the rails began to ring faintly, but clearly as a bell, in the frosty air. The sounds beat in quick pulsations, grew to a rumbling, then to an increasing roar, and in a moment an express train came around the point at a thundering pace. All the stillness and peace of the morning vanished as before the blast of war. It passed in an instant; the roaring fled; the rails rang again with a clear, pure music, softer, and fainter still, and then the Winter silence came once more over the valley of ice. The solemn repose of the great river was then unbroken. For even its mutterings were solemn, when the ice cracked under my feet with a loud report, and the sound darted away in quick, erratic angles to the bluff, and still rumbled on in persistent gloom. The falls at the Pin Factor were a scene of prettier details. The rocks were covered with pillowy masses of whitish ice, and the clear water came down in zig-zag courses, now over these pillows, now under ice caverns built over rocks. The steep descent of the stream was guarded by rustic balustrades of roots and branches, all covered with ice, and the whole was partly veiled by some bare elms, bushes, and dark cedars. A nearer view of the ice showed it to be a bank of crystal flowers, gleaming faintly with prismatic hues in the sunshine. The water ran all over it in little rivulets perfectly free from earthly stain. The dim caves were the most poetic objects; they had neither a ray of sunshine nor a line of shadow within them; yet their sculptured walls were exquisitely shaded with the softest, clearest lights, and the arch in front was hung with crystals of brilliant colors. The whole fall was full of magic, the faint Winter music of the stream, the exquisite delicacy of forms petrified as in death, and the strangeness of objects that transmit light instead of casting shadows. The only witness of the scene is an old mill with a crumbling wheel that once turned round to the music of the brook.  Now when the moonlight shines on his tottering form on the falls in the magic of Winter, and on the wide river groaning in his bed, the scene must be still more weird, if not more beautiful.

I went on to Milton, and there found my friend and his ice-boat ready for a cruise further down the river. I put on a few suits of clothes, woolen socks, arctics and mittens; then we embarked, and glided away toward New Hamburg. Other boats were skimming over the ice, and we exchanged many social greetings, if that term can be applied to salutations that begin and end at opposite points of the horizon. I dream of flying when I hold the tiller of an ice-boat, and find myself flitting about the earth, and reaching a place almost as soon as my thought of it. We flew about the Hudson for an hour or more, here turning to visit this point or that, there pausing in our flight to enjoy the excitement of another start, or to touch the social scenes and incidents of this Winter life. At a place near Milton we were admiring a large boat coming from the distance at great speed. Suddenly she stopped. As something was evidently the matter, we ran down there, and found her fast in a hollow that had been filled with water and then skimmed with thin ice. These hollows form by the expansion of the ice. The expansion across the river drives the ice up the shore, so that no cracks form up and down the stream. But the still greater expansion of the long stretches of ice up and down the river find no such room as the shores. The ice, therefore, doubles up, or buckles. It thus either throws up a low ridge, or else forms a hollow, on each side of the cracks running across the stream. The ridge does not interfere much with travel until one side of it drops down and makes a step or fault. But the hollow fills with water, sometimes several feet deep; and at last the tide catches one side of the inclined cakes or sides of the hollow, doubles it under, and carries it away. These clear, open cracks, from 10 to 20 feet wide, are slow to freeze, and generally offer the most dangerous places on the ice. They may form at any time, even in cold weather; so that constant attention and good light are required in raveling up or down the river. But, to return to the stranded ice-boat. She had a good breeze, and had come to this hollow too suddenly to avoid it. If the new ice had been a little stronger, or else narrower, it might have held her up till her forward runners had reached the old ice on the further side of the hollow, and the high wind, with her momentum, would have drive her through. This she would have “jumped a crack,” as the phrase goes; instead of this she “broke through,” as another phrase goes, and her passengers and crew were there surrounded by broken thin ice over a hollow of water in a depression of old ice. Now, we were interested chiefly in the passengers, for they were two very pretty girls, who explained with much animation and distinctness that they would like to get out of that situation. They appeared very well in the midst of rich furs and robes, but for once this advantage was ignored. So we had all the pleasure of their unnecessary distress, and finally landed them, still warm and dry, on the old ice. Then the boat was rescued, and amid many thanks on one side and some merry advice on the other, both parties darted away on the wind. We were afterward favored with pretty salutations from them, too literally en passant, yet too long drawn out for any comfort. Afterward, the same hollow entrapped a second boat; but this had only men aboard and we let them scramble out by themselves.  A third boat came up to see what was the matter, and also ran into the trap. Then a fourth came up with a gust of wind, and ran her port runner and the rudder in before she could be rounded to. The water flew, the ice rattled; and it came so suddenly that the whole crew jumped off in a fright. But the whole crew was only one man, and the helmsman stuck to his tiller and brought her out to clear sailing again.

​At Marlboro we found a crowd of skaters and sliders, collected to witness a horse-race on the ice. They all seemed to be animated with red, red noses. For the wind was keen, and they had to keep in constant motion. Some rosy girls and boys, with scarlet mittens and comforters, were skating hand in hand along the retired nooks of the shores. And some of the farmers from the hills were speeding their horses up and down the straight track on the ice. The village looked down on the scene from the head of its picturesque ravine. Northward, the river stretched away between its bold banks to Poughkeepsie, throwing up a cloud of thin smoke on the Western wind. Southward, the valley of ice ran between still bolder heads of dark cedars, along the sweeps of Low Point, past Newburg, and down to the foot of the Highlands. The gray heads of the mountains were nearer and grander now than when I first saw them from up the river. As the afternoon was passing away, we had to turn our backs on the swarms of boys and men at the horse-race, wave a last farewell to our pretty acquaintances on the ice-boat, and stand away southward. We flew along with a stiff breeze past New-Hamburg, the bold hills at Hampton, and on to other picturesque points. Cracks in the ice here and there made us turn in and out, and flit about with the quick motions of a bird. At last I had to give up the tiller, at the Dantz Kammer Point, shed my various suits down to a walking load, and bid the skipper good by as he flew away up the river.

But, after all, give me the sober earth for better or for worse. I enjoyed again the firmness of a good hard road, and the steadfast reality of a good walk down to Newburg. The road gradually mounts the high bank of the river among an army of cedars storming the height, and some farm-houses and orchards in their Winter reserve. At the top of the hill, near Balmville, you look back up the river and over the plains of Dutchess County. Southward the view includes the rolling hills about Newburg and Fishkill, the spires of these pretty towns, and the broad bay between them. The valley of ice contracts there to enter the magnificent gorge of the Highlands, and then disappears behind the shoulders of the mountains. These majestic spirits of the Winter scene are now still grander as you near their feet and gaze at their hoary, silent crowns. The suburbs of Newburg were quite cheerful. Carriages, with spirited horses, and with rosy faces above rich robes, dashed along the roads, and here and there a cozy home-scene shone out of window among  evergreens. The town, too, was alive with teams and people from the surrounding country. Winter vigor and high spirits pervaded both man and beast. And I was kin enough to each to share in their joy for the keen Winter day. C.H. F."