Shinny, so called, perhaps, on account of the frequent danger to which a player's shins were exposed, was a grand exhilirating sport. It had a hold upon us that the chilly atmosphere, or "the love we bore for learning," could not unfasten. Boys swarmed to the lakes in batallions and rattled along on old iron or wooden skates tied to their feet with rope. A few broken bones, a few frozen fingers, but, never mind, there were plenty of men to replace the dead. What a sight did a shinny match present! Hundreds on the same sheet of glare black ice, all eagerly engaged in one glorious game. What laughing, calling, cheering and chasing, there was to be sure! With their bright eyes and rosy cheeks they dart now in one direction, now in another till the great congealed bay roars and cracks with its living weight. The ball is in all directions in seconds of time, till finally the vast struggling crowd surges towards the goals, surrounds them, and a fierce lucky swipe knocks it through, while a hundred lusty voices cry their loudest Game! Game!!
Like the fabled Greek who used to give his time so undividedly to his work that he forgot his meals, these enthusiasts of an infant game forgot their meals, forgot their schools, forgot everything, save the game itself, but when darkness came on and their shadows grew longer, they returned home, with fresh
