IN THE OLD PATHS 145 



winter, skates in hand, bound for Jason 

 Halfbrook's meadow. Many a merry hour 

 you spent there, heedless of the cold. You 

 could skate then, or thought you could. 

 The backward circle, the " Dutch roll," the 

 "spread-eagle," these and other wonders 

 were in your repertory. They were feats to 

 be proud of, and you made the most of them. 

 Nor need you feel ashamed now at the recol- 

 lection. When the Preacher said, " There is 

 nothing better than that a man should rejoice 

 in his own works," he was not thinking exclu- 

 sively of an author and his books. You did 

 well to be proud while you were able. It was 

 pride, in part, that kept you warm. Now, 

 if you stand beside a city skating-resort, you 

 see young fellows performing feats that throw 

 all your old-fashioned, countrified accomplish- 

 ments into the shade. You look on, open- 

 mouthed. Boys of to-day have better skates 

 than you had. Perhaps they have better 

 legs. One thing they do not have, a bet- 

 ter time. 



This morning, however, you are not going 

 to the Halfbrook meadow. There is no ice, 

 or none that will bear a man's weight ; and 



