THE START.
Off! Yes; but inexperienced feet, With pace that's fast and a style that's neat, At first can scarcely be expected O'er frozen waters to glide and fleet.
"Have them on, Sir?" Old Time was there, With the shining steels and the ready chair. His latest pupil is passing yonder, No more the ice-locked waters to dare.
His feet are tired and his knees are stiff, His breath comes low in a wheezy whiff. He'll now "lay up," like a worn-out wherry. 'Tis yours to start like a new-launched skiff.
How many a novice that Skate-man old Has helped to onset alert and bold! How many a veteran worn seen vanish, Aching with effort and pinched with cold!
And you, young novice, 'tis now your turn Your skates to try and your steps to learn. You long to fly like the skimming swallow, To brave the breathless "scurry" you burn.
He knows, he knows, your aged guide! The screws are fixed, and the straps are tied, And he looks sharp out for the shambling stagger, The elbows wobbling, the knees too wide.
But boyhood's hopeful, and youth has pluck; And now, when scarcely your steel hath struck The slithery ice in your first bold venture, Punch, friendly watcher, will wish you luck!
He too has seen some novices start, And knows, however you play your part, The "outside edge," and attendant perils, Will tax your sinews and test your heart.
But most on the ice does the old saw hold— "Be bold, be bold, but be not too bold!" Though there's many a rotten patch marked "Danger!" Young hearts are warm if the weather be cold.
Bravo, youngster! Steady! Strike out! Caution, yes, but not palsying doubt. Courage! and you—ere your course you finish— May beat "Fish" Smart at a flying bout!