“No, I guess she didn’t.  She was published the very next Lord’s Day, and got married in the evening.  She was a mighty pretty cretur.  Well, I never see such a skater as Sam.  This fellow is nothing at all to him.  He don’t kind o’ turn his letters so nice.  Now, there’s that v, you might mistake it for a w.  I like to see a man parfect in his business.”

“I’ve hearn tell,” said the Captain, “though I never see it myself, that Sam could write Jarman text as well as Roman.”

“I never see it,” said the Fox-skin cap, “but guess it’s so.  There wasn’t nothing Sam couldn’t do on skates.”

“Do you recollect whether he used smooth irons or hollow?” inquired the Captain.

“Oh, smooth; they ain’t so easy for beginners, but when a fellow gits the knack of ’em they’re a great deal better.”

Very different from the remarks of these laudatores temporis acti, were those of the rising generation.

“How beautiful!” exclaimed Anne.  “What wonderful skill!  Can anything be more graceful?”

“It is, indeed, graceful,” said Faith; “and it must require considerable boldness as well as skill to venture on some of those evolutions.  The least mistake would cause a violent fall.”

“Dear Faith, why did you mention it?” said Anne.  “I was not thinking of the possibility of falls.”

“Have no fear,” said Pownal; “he is too completely master of the science to hurt himself.”

“In Holland the ladies are said to skate as well as the gentlemen,” said Bernard.

“That is a poor compliment, William,” said Anne.  “If I cannot skate better without practice, than half of this awkward squad, I will never bind skates on my feet a second time.”

“I know of nothing you cannot do,” said her brother.

“Come here, Andrew,” cried Pownal, to a boy standing opposite in the circle, and holding a pair of skates in his hand.  “Come here and lend me your skates.  Here, Miss Bernard,” said he, presenting them to her, “here is a fine pair.  Allow me to buckle them on.  And then like a winged Mercury to fly.”

“Please to compare me to no heathen gods, Mr. Pownal, or you may make these old Puritans burn me for a witch.  Let me see if they fit.  No, they are too large, I could never do myself justice on them.  Here, my little fellow is a ninepence for you; away with you.”

The boy took the little piece of silver with a grin, tied the rejected skates upon his feet, and was soon lost among his companions.

“I say,” said an urchin, who was looking on with admiring eyes, “I say, Bill, that beats all natur.  Did you ever see such shindys?”

“They ain’t so bad,” returned Bill; “but I guess I can do some of ’em myself.”

“Which ones?” inquired the other.

“Why,” answered Bill, “when he throws himself right about face, and then goes sculling backwards.”

“I’ll bet you can’t do it the first time.”