And of all the hardy winter sports snowshoeing is easily the first. Tobogganing and skating rise in public estimation and decline, but snowshoeing, like Tennyson’s “Brook,” “goes on forever,” and is continually gaining ground, as any one who has been so fortunate as to witness one of those unique winter carnivals in Montreal, and to gaze upon the hosts of picturesquely clad athletic young “knights of the shoe” in their attack upon the marvelously beautiful ice castle may well believe.
In place of the one solitary club of twelve members in existence in 1840, Montreal may now boast of dozens. The old Tuque Bleue Club, alias the Montreal, has now a membership of 2,000. The St. George has, perhaps, half that number; other principal organizations are the Emerald, Argyle, Le Trappeur, Le Canadien, St. Charles, Maple Leaf, Wolseley, Vandalia, Royal Scots, etc., while other Canadian cities are not far behind.
Toronto, Ottawa, Quebec, St. Hyacinthe, Winnipeg, Brandor, Souris and Portage la Prairie have all sent their representatives to the Montreal Ice Carnivals, and now St. Paul and Minneapolis, those twin cities of the American Northwest, have caught the fever and are enthusiastic in their emulation of their Canadian brethren.
A snowshoe club is organized in much the same manner as other athletic associations. It has its president, vice-president, secretary, treasurer, and last, but by no means least, its entertainment committee, whose pleasing duty it is to provide amusement for their fellow-members at the club rendezvous when half the tramp is over and the “boys” are resting previous to their return home.
The costume of the snowshoer is at once comfortable, singularly well adapted to its purpose, and picturesque in the extreme. The head is protected by a gaudy knitted woolen cap, with brilliant tassel, and is called a tuque, in the Norman French of the Canadian habitant, who used it first of all. Then there is a coat with capote, and knickerbockers made usually of white blankets with many-hued border. Of late years, however, colored blankets have come into favor and bid fair to rival the white in popularity. Around the waist the coat is drawn together by a sash; colored stockings and deerskin moccasins, and, of course, snowshoes, complete the costume. Each club is distinguished by some peculiarity in the uniform of its members; for example, the Montreal club affects a blue tuque, red sash and red stockings; the Knights of St. George, or the “Saints,” as they somewhat arrogantly style themselves, a purple tuque with white stripes, purple sash, and stockings of Tyrian hue also. So with the other clubs.
An entire outfit, including complete costume and snowshoes, may be procured for less than twenty-five dollars, and the suit under ordinary circumstances will outlast several winters. Some of the boys who have plenty of cash, or better opportunities of obtaining the articles than the rest, invest in buckskin hunting shirts and fringed leggings. They are made by Indians and half-breeds in Manitoba and the Northwest, and are, of course, more expensive than the blanket suits.
In Montreal it is usual for each club to tramp out on one evening in each week, and to take a more extended tour across country on Saturday afternoons.
On the evening appointed for the tramp the boys meet at their club-rooms; shoes are strapped on, the president leads the way, the members follow in Indian file, and the whipper-in brings up the rear to give the novice or the lazy a lift, and off they go. Let us suppose we are taking the route usual for evening tramps, partially around and up over a spur of Mount Royal, thence across country for about a mile and a half to our rendezvous. The pace increases, and, excepting an occasional nip at one’s ears, Jack Frost is forgotten as we warm to our work. “Number off,” cries the president. “No. 1, No. 2,” and so on, until the whipper-in responds, “No. 60; all up.”