sliding all on a summer day. In this respect, skating has a great
advantage over its rival, the "roaring game" of curling. It would be
poor fun to curl on asphalte, with stones fixed on wheels, though the
amusement is possible, and we recommend the idea, which is not copyright,
to enthusiastic curlers; and curlers are almost always enthusiastic. It
is pleasant to think how the hills must be ringing with their shouts,
round many a lonely tarn, where the men of one parish meet those of the
next in friendly conflict north of the Tweed. The exhilarating yell of
"soop her up," whereby the curler who wields a broom is abjured to sweep
away the snow in front of the advancing stone, will many a time be heard
this winter. There is something peculiarly healthy about this sport--in
the ring with which the heavy stones clash against each other; in the
voices of the burly plaided men, shepherd, and farmer, and laird; in the
rough banquet of beef and greens and the copious toddy which close the
day's exertions.
Frost brings with it an enforced close-season for most of furred and
feathered kind. The fox is safe enough, and, if sportsmen are right,
must be rather wearying for open weather, and for the return of his
favourite exercise with hounds. But even when the snow hangs out her
white flag of truce and goodwill between man and beast, the British
sportsman is still the British sportsman, and is not averse to going out
and killing something. To such a one, wild-fowl shooting is a
possibility, though, as good Colonel Hawker says, some people complain
forsooth that it interferes with ease and comfort. We should rather
incline to think it does. A black frost with no moon is not precisely
the kind of weather that a degenerate sportsman would choose for lying in
the frozen mud behind a bush, or pushing a small punt set on large skates
across the ice to get at birds. Few attitudes can be more cramping than
that of the gunner who skulks on one knee behind his canoe, pushing it
with one hand, and dragging himself along by the aid of the other. Then,
it is disagreeable to have to use a gun so heavy that the stock is fitted
with a horsehair pillow, or even with a small bolster. The whistle of
widgeon and the shrill-sounding pinions of wild geese may be attractive
noises, and no doubt all shooting is exciting; and a form of shooting
which stakes all on one shot must offer some thrilling moments of
expectation. The quarry has to be
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