POAETQUISSINGS IN WINTER. 47 



pay," as my practical neighbors remark continually, 

 when offering advice. The more striking features of the 

 creek are congregated about the floodgates. The largest 

 trees along the banks are at or near them, and the little 

 island, with its one great oak, is a feature of wondrous 

 beauty, when the snowclad limbs of the tree stand out 

 against the blue-black sky. I have found, when skat- 

 ing, it is something to have a little wildness about me, 

 and if a neighbor's dog barks it recalls the hungry 

 wolves that chased the benighted Quakers — if they ever 

 did. I once was startled by a stray cow that liad wan- 

 dered from the barnyard, and straiglitway took aim at 

 it, with my cane, with all the eagerness tiiat the hunter 

 knows when levelling his rifle at the unexpected game 

 he has suddenly discovered. This is childish, I am told. 

 True, but is it not worth something to be able to be a 

 child again — to forget for the moment the vexations of 

 manhood, and recall the experience of "having fun"? 

 For me, at least, sucli childishness is far preferable to 

 the ceaseless round in a skating-rink, where even the ice 

 is unnaturally rough, and the skater can only boast of 

 tired legs when he walks home. Give me an hour of 

 Poaetquissings by moonlight, with its shadows of the 

 elms that fringe its banks, with its starry sky above, 

 and dim distance mournful with the hootine: of owls 

 that fitfully fret when their domain is invaded; give 

 me these, and the world is welcome to the modern rinks, 

 with their gas-jets, stuffy atmosphere, and crowds. Zo- 

 ology, too, can be studied to advantage when we are on 

 skates. If a venturesome weasel bounds over the ice 

 or a startled rabbit courses along the frozen surface, we 



