bursts of laughter and ironical invitations to try it again, greeted
his misfortune. In another place were girls on small sleighs or sleds,
capable of holding two or three, whirled along by half-a-dozen skaters
with great rapidity; while, holding on to handkerchiefs, were others
drawn upon their feet at less hazardous speed. Dispersed among the
crowd were little boys with flat, tin boxes suspended by a strap
from their necks, containing molasses candy, whose brittle sweetness
appeared to possess great attraction. All was fun and jest, and laugh
and merriment.

Among others, allured by the beauty of the day, which though clear was
not so cold as to be uncomfortable, to witness the sports, were Faith
Armstrong and Anne Bernard, escorted by Pownal and young Bernard. The
cheeks of the ladies were crimsoned by the wholesome cold, and their
eyes shone with a brighter lustre than usual, and many were the looks
of envy or of admiration cast upon them as they passed, greeting their
acquaintances and joining in the revel.

At the time when the little party arrived there happened to be a
circle gathered around one of the most accomplished performers to
witness an exhibition of his skill, and surely nothing could be more
graceful. Without sensible effort, and as if by mere volition, he
seemed to glide over the glossy surface, now forwards, now backwards,
now sideways, now swiftly, now slowly, whirling like an eagle in rapid
or dilatory curves, describing all the lines that Euclid ever drew or
imagined, and cutting such initials of the names of the spectators
as were desired. The performance, though hailed with very
general expressions of admiration, did not seem to give universal
satisfaction.