ul pride.

Livingstone finally was compelled to get off the sidewalk again and take
to the street. Here, at least, there were no fine carriages to block his
way.

As he began to approach a hill, he was aware of yells of warning ahead
of him, and, with shouts of merriment, a swarm of sleds began to shoot
by him, some with dark objects lying flat on their little stomachs,
kicking their heels high in the air; others with small single or double
or triple headed monsters seated upright and all screaming at the top of
their merry voices. All were unmindful of the falling snow and nipping
air, their blood hot with the ineffable fire of youth that flames in the
warm heart of childhood, glows in that of youth, and cools only with the
cooling brain and chilling pulse.

Before Livingstone could press back into the almost solid mass on the
sidewalk he had come near being run down a score of times. He felt that
it was an outrage. He fairly flamed with indignation. He, a large
taxpayer, a generous contributor to asylums and police funds, a
supporter of hospitals,--that he should be almost killed!

He looked around for a policeman--

"Whoop! Look out! Get out the way!" Swish! Swish! Swish! they shot by.
Livingstone had to dodge for his life. Of course, no policeman was in
sight!

Livingstone pushed his way on to the top of the ascent, and a square
further on he found an officer inspecting silently a group of noisy
urchins squabbling over the division of two sticks of painted candy. His
back was towards the hill from which were coming the shouts of the
sliding miscreants.

Livingstone accosted him:

"That sliding, back there, must be stopped. It is a nuisance," he
asserted.--It was dangerous, he declared; he himself had almost been
struck by one or more of those sleds and if it had run him down it might
have killed him.

The officer, after a long look at him, turned silently and walked slowly
in the direction of the hill. He moved so deliberately and with such
evident reluctance that Livingstone's blood boiled. He hurried after
him.

"Here," he said, as he overtook him, "I am going to see that you stop
that sliding and enforce the law, or I shall report you for failure to
perform your duty. I see your number--268."

"All right, sir. You can do as you please about that," said the officer,
rather surlily, but politely.

Livingstone walked close after him to the hilltop. The officer spoke a
few words in a quiet tone to th