OES Bobby think he is the only one who can tell stories connected with snow and ice?' said Denison, one evening; 'I, too, have been in high latitudes. Have you ever enjoyed the experience of going down the ice-hills at St. Petersburg, Bobby?'
'Rather,' replied Bobby, gazing into the fire. He smiled as he gazed; the recollection seemed to be pleasant. 'I am still giddy when I think of it,' he ended.
'Well, perhaps Vandeleur has not tried it. It's a kind of artificial tobogganing, you know; they build up a wooden erection with a flight of stairs behind, a platform at the top, and a steep slope covered with slabs of ice going down from it, and leading straight into a level road of ice some eight feet in width and a quarter of a mile in length; at the end is a similar erection pointing back in the opposite direction, the two ice runs or roads being side by side, and each ending at the foot of the stairs leading to the other, so that after a fellow has flashed down the first hill upon the little iron sledge, comfortably cushioned, and darted like lightning to the end of the first run, he only has to have his sledge carried up to the top of the second hill by the servants employed for the purpose, and start upon the return journey, and so ad infinitum. One learns how to do it after a bit, and I suppose there is no more delicious sensation on earth than that rush down and skim along the level—when once you have learned the art; but, my goodness! one's feelings at the first attempt—eh, Bobby?'
Bobby burst into laughter.
'It is like trying to be an amateur catherine-wheel,' he remarked; 'and you see plenty of sparks!'
Ralph continued: I was asked to an 'ice-hill party' while I was in St. Petersburg some years ago. I have always wondered, since, whether the rascally British residents out there give their ice-hill parties only when there is a beginner about; certainly the poor wretch must be one of the main attractions; there was another visitor besides myself, I remember, that night, and I really don't think I ever laughed quite so much in my life as I did when he made his first few descents. We were quits, of course, for my antics were just as ridiculous to him. At these parties there are generally a few skilful exponents, who show off fancy ways of going down, and so easy does the thing appear when demonstrated by them, that the beginner is not greatly alarmed by the prospect before him.
The platform at the top of the hill is roofed and walled round, and has room for seats for spectators. There is something hot for them to drink, and I should say that when there are beginners about, these spectators must spend a remarkably pleasant evening, for the hot drinks and the exercise of laughing over the misfortunes of innocent strangers serve excellently to keep the cold out, and the scene is really extremely pretty. The 'runs' are outlined by rows of Chinese lanterns hung upon slender posts; they must not be too thick because of the limbs of the beginners, which are likely to make very intimate acquaintance with them, and even beginners must be treated with a certain amount of consideration. There are a few snow-covered trees showing like ghosts, here and there, in the semi-darkness, and all the snow which has fallen during the season upon the ice-runs is swept to either side, and left in a continuous heap or bank all along. This, too, is an arrangement made to let down the beginner easily.
They took me, with my fellow-victim, to the top of the hill, and placed us in seats upon the platform; they spoke bracingly and gave us good advice; they described the delight of the experience before us—the fascination of flying through the air, bird-like; some one said it was 'the very poetry of motion'; no one mentioned that there was much prose to be gone through before one could hope to become one of the poets of motion.