The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1945-02-22


what fun in the playing of ice games!
One of the most popular was "the
whip" in which numbers were drawn.
If you held the highest you would be
on the end Of the line The leader
would start slowly like putting To-
connective, by the weight Of the human
Gordon, moving ever faster in
. straight line the gain in momentum
would mount to a terrifying intensity
and at that instant he would give
his line a jerk. The victim on the
tail-end would snap off the line and
go plunging wildly towards some un-
known country, hoping to land safe
and sound in a snow-drift along the
shore.
Quite often there would be skate
trouble" There were no skates built
then into the shoes. Skates had adjust
able clamps, placed tightly over the
edges of the soles. But frequently the
clamps would work loose, due mostly
to the leather having become softened
from melted snow and ice. When this
happened a skate would fly in one
direction and the skater would start
coasting on his fanny until meeting
with some immovable obstruction, or
get in the path Of a skating party,
causing all to founder. What brave
and frolicksome mix ups Of legs, arms,
wraps and mittens And then to the
shore, sitting on a log by the fire to
adjust cur skates once more. There
was no hardness in the behavior of
d youth when his lady friend called
him to where she was trying to fix
her skate. kneeling at her feet was
d moment almost as sacrosanct as Rir
Galahad taking his oath before the
high altar
As I try to describe these olden
scenes l find myself too deeply agi-
tated to give a clear imagery of the
whole scene. Fortunately for posterity
Currier and Ives colored-prints Of the
American winter include number Of
skating scenes that incorporate the d.
versifed elements. There were 50
many things to observe. The moods
Of the merry-makers, the variety of
groups and costumes, the graceful
flow and blend OF the skaters with
the figures they were tracing on the
ice. And like the movement Of their
bodies, so the impressions on the ice,
they were so delicately poised in a
transitory world Of fancy that the
immediate present in which all these
images flowed thru the eye became
one of immutable fixation. And there
is the cruX to all art-and the only
art that lasts. Skating in these moon
lit, crisp-aired February nights on
Broderick's Lake forty years ago and
in reality a folk-dance. Rhythm was
the whole thing, the thing that each
and every skater strove to possess. 1t
was grand effort to possess the
rhythm of winters landscape. The
stroke Of the skate, the movement Of
the body, the down-beat of the wind
were of one and the same animated
pattern. Mist would come naturally
to the eyes, the mist of frost. Sway
ing in rhythm, in tune and time with
all objects and forms around you; and
/ thru this swaying, soul-pleasing pulse
of life, you would see its bright-near
colors counter balanced in compilations
and costumes by the glow Of the log
fire-and then looking up, see the far
away color of the clouds and stars in
majestic design with the moon.
John Gould Fletcher, the poet, who
spent his childhood in a New England
landscape must have shared with me
the same nostalgia for an old-fash-
toned winter when in later life, spent
in England he wrote the following
lines
BLACK swallows swooping or gliding
In furry Of entangled loops and
curves:
The skaters skim over he frozen river.
And the grinding click of their
skates as they impinge upon the
surface.
Is like the brushing together of thin
wing-tips Of silver
-V-
Churchill has promised the British