SELF-DEFENCE WITH A CANE.
and leave each torch’s circle of light.
A toboggan flashes past,
leaving the merry hail of its crew far
behind in a swirl of shining dust.
You mount step by step, till you are
above it all, and can look down upon the
spear-like point of a goodly tree. Away
below run the lights, dipping, dipping,
like lessening golden heads on a view-
less cord. Bright eyes flash, and soft
voices murmur all about; teeth that
have caught something of the frost’s
gleam show between lips so warm that
Winter dare not touch them lest he per-
ish. A manly voice says cheerily: “Get
on; sit tight,” and away you go!
Was it not grand, that marvelous
swooping flight? And you will try
again? I thought so! This air is like
wine without the evil of it. You are
on fire. Nothing now too high, fast, or
far—you are a victim of intoxication,
and, like its other victims, you will con-
tinue to go down.
“Look out—they’ll run you down!”
How that pair flew past, she leaning
far back, and he as far forward, steer-
ing by instinct, eyes fixed upon her face.
Another version of the old, old story.
“You saw him kiss her?
—his mustache is full of frost!”
“You saw his cheek touch hers any-
“Well, sposen you did? He’s mor-
tal, and this air is like wine. Truly
may he say—and with better grace than
did his old father Adam—the woman
BY JUSTIN BONNAFOUS.
THE carrying of a cane, or walking-
stick, is so much a fashion and
is such a universal and ancient
practice, that it would almost seem
to be the survival of an instinct im-
planted by the habit or necessity of
carrying some more substantial club for
self-defence. The game of single-stick
was formerly well known and practiced,
and it is surprising that whilst all other
1.—the wrong way to strike.
branches of sport in and out of doors,
have their conspicuous positions in
the world of athletics, the art of
single-stick up to the present date is
so little understood in this country.
Single-stick practice has indeed fared
even worse than the fo