“Ice Hockey has become very popular in Switzerland of late, and Villars was one of the first centres to join the Swiss Ice Hockey Association. Matches are played annually against neighbouring clubs, and teams occasionally come from Zurich and even from such distant places as Brussels and Prague. The scene on the rink when a match is in progress is one of great animation, the enclosure being surrounded by a crowd of skaters of both sexes who shout themselves hoarse encouraging the Villars team. The ladies frequently have matches against the men, who play left-handed, and also against the boys. It is here that La Combe and the Château de la Rosey from Rolle,[14] and Sillig’s school from Vevey have won some of their spurs.
“I have mentioned the ice-run on which only skeletons[15] are allowed, but there is also an equally well made though smaller and easier run on which only ordinary Swiss luges are allowed; and this is used chiefly by ladies and children. Races are held regularly, and as this run lies parallel with the skeleton run for a great part of its length, the same telephone can be used for timing these races.
“As I have already said, the spirit of activity is indefatigable at Villars. When the day’s outdoor excitement is over there comes more excitement indoors. The Dramatic Club gives several performances each season on the fine stage at the Hotel Muveran, among its repertoire being The Villain of Villars and Violet goes to Villars, both from the facile and ingenious pens of Captain and Mrs. Holmes Tarn, and far above the usual amateur productions.
“I must, however, cease. Indeed, I have no permission to go further. Much more could, and really ought to be said, but perhaps the foregoing is sufficient to show what Villars can do for winter sportsmen.
“G. C. DOBBS.”
IN THE VILLAGE OF CHESIÈRES
Yes; more undoubtedly could be said. In fact, a book such as this could well be written about each of the places we are visiting. But necessity is inexorable, and we must leave this very night for Aigle, though high fête is in the air and the huge rink is illuminated with Chinese lanterns, and a masked and costumed cortège, led by the stentorian strains of the village band, with Mr. Dobbs as majordomo at the head, is shuffling and gliding slowly round preparatory to dispersal for a display of gorgeous fireworks. Had it been daylight we might have walked down by way of Chesières and Huémoz to the large village of Ollon, home of the accomplished painter, Frédéric Rouge, one of Switzerland’s most sincere and virile draughtsmen, and thence to our destination. As it is, we must return the way we came and take train from Bex to