A Day on the Crust 



his Christmas dinner. Advocates of snow- 

 shoes may claim what they please; I know, 

 and every tramper knows, that carrying 

 and operating these obstructions is hard, 

 heavy, nerve-wearing work, not to be com- 

 pared in physical effect with the light- 

 footed joy of tramping over elastic ground, 

 or striding across miles of gleaming, noise- 

 less crust. The snowshoe is an occasional 

 convenience, but not a source of habitual 

 pleasure. I speak advisedly and from ex- 

 perience. There are a hardy and, I am 

 tempted to say, bigoted few, who will stretch 

 their elephantine trails across our snow- 

 fields every winter, and count it sport; but 

 the fact that their number does not increase 

 from year to year is sufficient proof that 

 the sport requires qualifications, mental and 

 muscular, not vouchsafed to the majority 

 of those who enjoy out-of-door sports. 



But if walking over, or through, soft 

 snow is the most laborious form of pedes- 

 trianism known to mankind, a walk upon 

 hard snow is positively unequaled for ease, 

 exhilaration, and healthful delight. It is 

 really next to becoming a Mercury pro 

 tempore and having wings under one's feet. 

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