SLIDING.
What can be jollier or more enjoyable than sliding for an hour upon a crisp wintry morning, when the snow is lying three inches deep on the ground? You may say what you please about the pleasures of skating, but if you talk for an hour you’ll never convince us that there’s more fun in it than in sliding. We confess we gaze with admiration at a man twisting about on the ice like a teetotum on a ricketty tea-tray, and that when, like a crab, he goes backwards or waltzes round on one foot, while the other is gracefully poised in the air, we feel a pleasure in looking at him; but then, after watching a party of skaters for a short time, we begin to wonder how it is that they all look so solemn, as if each man were engaged on such an important task that he could not speak a word to his neighbour, and then we come to the conclusion that there is more display than real jolly pleasure in skating, and that the highly-trained skater goes through his evolutions rather in the hope of affording satisfaction to the spectators than of deriving enjoyment himself, for we defy any jolly-tempered fellow to feel jovial on a winter morning in company without laughing and shouting with glee at any person he comes across.
Therefore, when on turning from the mystic movements of a troup of skaters to a party of sliders, we hear them laugh and shout at each other, “now, then, keep the pot boiling,” and other choice sentences, and when we see a broad grin of pleasure plainly depicted on their rosy faces, we cannot but think that the enjoyment of sliding shows itself in a far more demonstrative manner than skating, and that more pleasure is derived from looking at a crowd of merry urchins going gaily down a slide than in seeing quadrilles danced, or names cut on the ice, by a band of skilled pâtineurs.
We also like sliding on account of its simplicity. All that its devotees require is a good sharp frost. What care they for ice? The hobnails in London boys’ boots soon produce a shiny slippery surface, and in a short time a respectable slide is made out of the drippings from a water-can, which a servant may have filled at the pump the day before.
There are, we are sure, few English lads who do not know how to slide. It seems to come as a matter of course to most boys; but still, lest there be some benighted youth to whom the pleasures of the slide are still unknown, we must insert a few hints on the subject.
Take a sharp run of about ten yards, and as soon as you feel that you are upon the slide, push the sole of the left foot as far along as you can, making the weight of the body rest almost upon it. You will then slide away, the right foot following without any effort on your part. We say advisedly do not push your foot until you feel well upon the slide, for if you are not very careful about this point you will endeavour to slide on that part of the earth which is not slippery, and although the momentum may impel you as far as the slippery portion, yet your progress will not be very great, as the force which was required to carry you along the whole length of the slide is partly wasted by the resistance which, at the start-off, the hard earth offers to your foot. Then, we have seen many boys in their first attempts to slide, place the heel upon the slide before the toe. The consequence is that they either fall over, or else only slip along a few yards, for a moment’s reflection will show that much greater force can be exerted by pushing the sole along than is exerted when the heel takes its place, and in the latter case, instead of the weight of the body assisting one’s progress, it probably causes the youthful tyro to fall backwards upon Mother Earth, and to wonder how it happens that he does not get on so well at first as other boys.
And now surmising that the slider is proficient in the first rudiments of the art, let us enumerate a few of the feats which a slider may perform while on the glassy track.
Foremost amongst these stands the postman’s knock, in which a boy slides upon one foot only, while with the other he gives double taps quickly upon the ice, in imitation of the noise made by the red-coated messenger at our street doors. This, however, should not be attempted until the performer is well on the slide, or the result will probably be that he’ll measure his length upon the ground. This is also known as “knocking at the cobbler’s door.”
Then comes the “carambole,” which consists in the slider sinking down two or three times during his journey, and rising as he reaches its termination; unless, however, he is very careful the weight of his body will drag him down altogether, and he will continue his journey on another portion of his frame, rather than on his feet. But the best accomplishment to be performed on a slide is the game known as “turnpikes.” Two stones or bricks are placed on the slide, with sufficient distance between them for a boy’s foot to pass through. The turnpike, thus roughly made, is to be kept by one of the party. Off start the sliders, taking care to pass through the pike, without displacing or even touching its walls. Woe betide the unlucky wight whose foot infringes this rule! He is instantly turned off the slide, and has to wait until some other incautious player commits a like offence, and is thus compelled to take his place.
Such are a few of the feats performed by adepts in this graceful art. Most lads, however, will be able to invent many more for themselves, and numerous are the sports that can be indulged in.
