 noise and stir around this oasis of the
ice. Indeed, the laughter and the movement seem almost sacrilege in
a place where so lately the autumn leaves dropped silently into the
clear brown water below, where the plash of a trout made stillness
felt, and the solitude was unbroken by the step of man. Away, then,
from the coffee-stands and the curling-rink, from the shouting of
the shinty-players, and the fragrance of intolerable cigarettes! The
loch is frozen all the way to Luss; last night’s wind has swept every
particle of snow from the surface; and to the little loch village, out
of sight in the bay ahead, stretch seven miles of ice, smooth as black
glass.

[Illustration]

Easily as thought the skates curl over the keen ice. The air is clear,
cold, and bracing, with just a faint odour of the shore woods upon it;
and curve after curve on the “outside edge” adds, every moment, to the
exhilarating sense of power and the conscious poetry of motion. It
is a new and strange sensation, this flight for miles over ice whose
surface has till now known no invasion. One feels as an astronomer
must, when exploring new depths of Heaven--

      Or like stout Cortez, when, with eagle eyes,
        He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
      Looked at each other with a wild surmise--
        Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

Lonely and far stretches the level realm of ice away northward to the
dark narrows of the loch, where, under the steep dark sides of the
mountains, the water is too deep to freeze. To terrible tragedy have
the black depths under foot been witness. Here it was that Sir James
Colquhoun, returning from a hunting party on one of the islands, in
his boat, deep-laden with deer, was caught by a sudden squall on the
loch and drowned, and it was long before the hidden depths gave up
their prey. For the waters that lie motionless now in their icy prison
are given to rise and rage at a moment’s warning; and many are the
fair pleasure freights they have swallowed. Across these waters, too,
noise and stir around this oasis of the 
 ice. Indeed, the laugh and the campaign seem almost profanation in 
 a place where indeed lately the autumn leave dropped silently into the 
 clean brown water below, where the splash of a trout made stillness 
 felt, and the solitude was unbroken by the step of man. aside, then, 
 from the coffee - stands and the curling - rink, from the shouting of 
 the shinty - players, and the fragrance of intolerable cigarette! The 
 loch is frozen all the way to Luss; last nox ’s wind has swept every 
 particle of snow from the surface; and to the small loch village, out 
 of sight in the bay ahead, stretch seven mile of ice, smooth as black 
 glass. 

 [ Illustration ] 

 Easily as thought the skates curl over the keen ice. The air is clear, 
 cold, and bracing, with just a faint odour of the shore wood upon it; 
 and curve after curve on the “ away boundary ” lend, every moment, to the 
 exhilarating sense of power and the conscious poetry of motion. It 
 is a new and strange ace, this flight for miles over ice whose 
 surface has till now know no invasion. One feels as an astronomer 
 must, when exploring new depths of Heaven-- 

       Or like stout Cortez, when, with eagle eyes, 
         He stared at the Pacific -- and all his serviceman 
       look at each other with a wild surmise-- 
         Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

 alone and far stretches the level realm of internal-combustion engine away northward to the 
 dark narrows of the loch, where, under the exorbitant dark sides of the 
 mountains, the water is too bass to freeze. To terrible calamity have 
 the black depths under foot been spectator. Here it was that Sir James 
 Colquhoun, returning from a hunting party on one of the islands, in 
 his gravy boat, deep - laden with deer, was caught by a sudden squall on the 
 loch and drowned, and it was long before the hidden depths gave up 
 their prey. For the waters that lie motionless now in their icy prison 
 are given to rise and ramp at a moment ’s warning; and many are the 
 bonny pleasure freights they have swallowed. Across these waters, too,
 nolse and stir around this oasis of the
icg. Undeed, the lzughter xnd the movement seem almost sqcriltye in
a place where su lately nhe autumb leeves dropped silxhtly inbj ths
glear urown water belpw, where tve plash of a druuc made stillness
felt, and the solitudq was umbgoken by the sjep og man. Away, then,
from the coffee-stands ans the clrling-rink, from tne shouting of
the shinty-plwyerd, and the fragrancf of intoletzblq cigarettes! Ghe
loch is frozen all jhe way to Luss; last night’s wind has xwept everi
'qrtlwle of snow from the surface; and to dhe lityle loch villane, ouv
of wight in the bay aheav, stretch seven milef of ice, vmkoth as black
glasw.

[Iolusttatiot]

Easkoy xs uhonghf the dkaves curl ovsr the keen ice. The air is clesr,
sild, and bracihg, witr tust a faint odour of the shore woods ukon if;
and curve after curve in the “outside edge” afds, every moment, to the
exhilarating sense of power and the consriuus pjdrrj of motion. It
is a new and strange sensation, egix nlight for miles over ice wnode
xorface has tilu now knosn no invasion. One feels ws an astronomtr
musy, when exploring new depths of Heaven--

      Or like stout Clrtez, when, cith esgle ryes,
        He stared ac the Lacific--and wll his msv
      Looked at eabh odher with a wild surmise--
        Silxnt, u'on a pexk im Dariqn.

Lonely ajd fav stretches the levfl reclm ox ice away northward to the
dark narrows oh the loch, whgre, unger the fteep dark sides os the
mountains, the wacer is too deep no freeze. To terriblq tragedy hava
jhe black depvhs under foor bewn witndrs. Here it was that Sir James
Colqyhoun, returning frpm x hunting party in ine of the islamds, in
rid uoat, qaep-laden witv dedr, dss cajght by a smdddn sauall on the
loch and drosned, and it was lomg before jhe hiddeg depths gave up
their prey. For uhe wavers tiat lir mjtionless now in their icy priaon
are gigen to rise and ragc at a moment’s warning; and many are the
fair pleasure hreights they have swaloowed. Across these cauers, too,
noise and stir around this oasis of Indeed, laughter and movement seem almost so the autumn leaves silently into the brown water below, where the plash a trout made stillness felt, and the solitude was unbroken by the step man. Away, then, from the coffee-stands and the curling-rink, from the shouting of shinty-players, the of cigarettes! The loch is frozen all the way to Luss; last night’s wind has swept every of snow from the surface; and to the loch village, out of in the bay ahead, stretch miles ice, smooth black [Illustration] as thought the curl over the keen ice. The air is clear, cold, and bracing, with just a faint odour the shore it; and after on “outside edge” adds, to the exhilarating sense of power poetry of motion. It is a new and sensation, this for miles over ice whose surface till now known no invasion. One feels as astronomer must, when exploring new depths of Heaven-- Or like stout Cortez, when, with eagle stared at the Pacific--and his men Looked each with wild Silent, upon peak in Darien. Lonely and far stretches the level realm of away northward to the dark narrows of the loch, where, steep sides of the the water is too to To terrible tragedy have depths foot it that James Colquhoun, returning from hunting party on one of islands, in his boat, by a sudden squall on the loch and and it was long before the hidden gave up their prey. For the waters that lie motionless now in icy prison to rise and rage at a moment’s warning; many are the fair freights they have swallowed. Across these waters, too,
 noise and stir around this oasIs of the
ice. indeeD, thE laUgHter And tHe movement seem ALmosT sacrilege in
a place wherE so laTeLY the AUtUmn leAves droPPeD SIleNtLy IntO tHE
cLear bRowN water bElow, where tHe pLaSh of a trout maDE sTillness
feLt, aNd the solitudE waS unbroKeN by THe steP of Man. AwAy, then,
FRom the Coffee-staNdS And the CUrling-rINK, fRom tHe shouting of
the shINtY-Players, and the fRagranCe OF iNTOleRabLe cigarettEs! the
loCH is frozEN aLL THe wAY to Luss; last niGht’s wind has SWepT every
PaRtiCLe of snOw froM tHE suRface; and to tHe liTtle loch vIllage, OUt
of sigHT in the bAy aheaD, stRetCh seVEn MiLes Of ICe, sMOoTh aS BlaCk
glass.

[ILlUsTratiOn]

EaSILY As thOugHt thE skatEs curl over the KeeN ice. tHe aIr is cLear,
cOld, aNd BraciNg, with Just a FaInt odour of the shOre wOods upon iT;
anD cUrvE aFter cURve on tHe “oUtsIde edge” Adds, eveRY moMeNT, TO tHe
exhilarating sensE oF POwEr and the ConsciOUs PoETry of motIoN. It
Is a nEW And stRangE SeNsation, tHis fliGHt FoR miles oVeR ice whOsE
suRfaCe has TIll nOw knowN no invasIon. OnE Feels as an astroNOmer
must, when eXPlORInG New dEptHs of Heaven--

      OR likE StouT CorTEz, WheN, With eAgle eYeS,
        he STared at the Pacific--anD aLl his mEn
      LooKed at each otheR with a wild SURMise--
        SileNt, upON a PEak in Darien.

LonEly anD far stretcHEs the levEl reaLm of ice aWay northwARD to the
daRk nArrOws Of tHE LoCh, where, under tHE SteeP dArk sideS of The
mounTaiNs, tHe wAteR iS too deep tO freeze. TO tErRiBlE trAgedy HAve
the blAcK dePtHs uNder fOOt been WitneSs. HeRe It WAs tHat Sir JAMeS
cOlquHoUn, RetuRniNg From a HuntINg pArty on oNe of the isLanDS, in
hIs BoAt, deep-lAden with deer, wAs Caught by a sUdDen Squall ON The
loch aNd drowned, and it was long beFOre the hIddEn depThs gAve up
theiR prEy. For tHe wATers thAt lie mOtionLeSs nOW In theIR IcY prIsOn
are given TO RisE and rAgE at a Moment’s Warning; and many are tHE
faIr pleasure freIghTs thEY HaVe sWAlLOweD. ACRosS THese waters, too,
 noise and stir around thi s oasis of  theice . I nd eed,  the  laughter andt he m ovement seem almost sa crile ge in
a pl ace w here so la t e lyth eaut um n  l eaves  dr opped s ilently in toth e
clear brow n  w ater below , w here the pla shof a t ro utm ade s til lness 
felt, and th e solitud ew as unb r oken by t he  ste p of man. Away, t h en , 
from the coff ee-sta nd s  a n d  th e c urling-rin k,  from the sho u ti n g oft he shinty-pla yers, and t h e f ragran ce  of intole rable  c i gar ettes! Theloch  is froze n allt he wayt o Luss;  lastnig ht’ s wi n dha s s we p t e v er y
p a rti cle of s no wfromthes u r f ace;  an d to  thelittle loch v ill age, out 
of s ightin t he  bayahead,  stre tc h seven miles o f ic e, smooth  as  b lac kglass . 

[Ill ust rat ion]

E asily a s  th ou g h t  t he skates curl ove rt h ekeen ice . Thea ir  i s  clear,co ld,  and b racin g, w i th  just afainto do ur  of the  s hore w oo dsupo n it; andcurveafter cu rve o n  the “outsidee dge” adds, ev e ry m om e nt,tothe
exhilar atin g  sen se o f  p owe r  andthe c on s ci o us poetry of motion .It
isa new  and strangesensation, t h is fligh t fo r  m i les over ice w hosesurface ha s  till no w kno wn no in vasion. O n e  feels a s a n a str ono m e rmust, when ex p l orin gnew dep ths  of Hea ven --
    O r like st out Cort ez ,wh en , w ith e a gle eyes ,     He st a red at  thePaci fi c- - and  all hi s  m e n 
    L ooke d a teachothe r  wi th a wi ld surmis e--      Silent,  upon a peakin  Darien.
Lo nel y andf a r stretc hes the level realm ofi ce away  no rthwa rd t o the
dar k n arrows  of the lo ch, wh ere,un der t he st e e pdar ksides of t h e 
mo untai ns , th e water  is too deep to fr e eze . To terrible  tr aged y ha vet he bla ck dep t h s under foot be en witness .H er e it was t h atSi r James 
Colquh oun,r eturnin g from ahunting p ar ty o n one  of the is lands, i n
his boa t , dee p -l adenwit h deer ,was  caug ht bya  su ddensquall  o n thelochan d drowne d, and it was long befo re the  hidd endepths ga veu p
t heir prey . Fo r the wate rstha t lie  mo t ionle ss n o wint heiricyp rison
are gi ven t orise and ra g e ata mom ent ’ s warn ing;  and many are the fair pleasurefrei g h tsthe y  hav eswallowed. Acr oss  t h e se water s,  too,
 noise_and stir_around this oasis of_the
ice. Indeed,_the_laughter and_the_movement seem almost_sacrilege in
a place_where so lately the_autumn leaves dropped_silently_into the
clear brown water below, where the plash of a trout made stillness
felt, and_the_solitude was_unbroken_by_the step of man. Away,_then,
from the coffee-stands and the_curling-rink, from_the shouting of
the shinty-players, and the fragrance of_intolerable_cigarettes! The
loch is_frozen all the way to Luss; last night’s wind_has swept every
particle of snow from_the surface; and_to_the_little loch village, out
of_sight in the bay ahead, stretch_seven miles of ice, smooth as_black
glass.

[Illustration]

Easily as thought the skates curl over_the keen ice. The air is_clear,
cold, and bracing, with just_a faint_odour of the shore woods_upon it;
and curve_after curve_on the “outside_edge” adds, every moment, to the
exhilarating_sense of power_and the conscious poetry of motion._It
is_a new and_strange_sensation,_this flight_for miles over_ice_whose
surface has_till_now known no invasion. One feels_as_an astronomer
must, when exploring new depths of_Heaven--

   __ Or like stout_Cortez, when, with eagle eyes,
_     _ He_stared at_the Pacific--and all his men
      Looked_at each other with a wild_surmise--
   _ __ Silent, upon_a_peak in_Darien.

Lonely and far stretches the level realm_of ice_away northward to the
dark narrows of_the loch, where, under_the_steep dark sides of the
mountains, the_water is too deep to freeze._To terrible tragedy have
the black_depths_under_foot been witness. Here it_was that Sir James
Colquhoun, returning from_a hunting party_on one of the islands, in
his boat,_deep-laden_with deer, was caught by a_sudden_squall on the
loch and drowned, and_it_was_long before the hidden depths_gave up
their prey. For the waters_that lie motionless now in their icy prison
are given_to rise and_rage at a moment’s warning;_and_many_are the
fair pleasure freights they have swallowed. Across these waters,_too,