Skating Into the C hannel 
     
    
   
   
    
     The river from which I so narrowly escaped, ran into a lake. We 
     
     called it The Basin—it was shaped like a big basin, and was about a 
     
     hallc mile wide; the water was not deep except in the channel. One 
     
     beautiful moonlight night a crowd of boys were skating on this great 
     
     rink. I was late getting there; the skaters were far out on the ice. I 
     
     was in a great hurry to get to them; there Was not much fUn skating 
     
     alone. There were no houses near. When I got my skates strapped on 
     
     firmly, I struck out with full speed. The ice was smooth and strong 
     
     enough except on the channel. I did not think of the possibility of 
     
     thin ice there. I made a bee line for the crowd; in doing this I had to 
     
     cross the channel; a crust of ice had formed on it. I had a pair of 
     
     skates made out of long flat files; the toe ends of these were curled 
     
     up like the runners of a riding sleigh. In crossing the channel I heard 
     
     the hollow sound of the thin ice, from which the water had receded a 
     
     few inches; before I could think twice one skate went through and 
     
     the curled up toe hooked under the ice. My speed was so great that 
     
     it tore the steel runner from the wooden stock, and I went head first. 
     
     I struck the solid ice beyond the channel and my force sent me over 
     
     the ice like an arrow shot from a bow. My great speed saved me 
     
     from dropping into the deep water of the channel. I recovered my 
     
     skate but it was broken and I lost my evening’s fun. I was glad I 
     
     escaped with so little damage and loss. It was one of my narrowest 
     
     escapes. We got many warnings about the dangers of skating on 
     
     treacherous ice, and on swimming, but boys and girls do not stop to 
     
     consider danger when in the excitement of a good time, and many sad 
     
     accidents occur on this account every year. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The White .Mare Turn: a Somersault 
     
    
   
   
    
     We had a mare we named Bloss; 'she was nearly as white as snow; 
     
     that may be why she got the name, which is a short form of Blossom. 
     
     She was smart and a faithful worker, but she was a'i'thief as cunning 
     
     as a fox. She would break out of the pasture at, night and get into 
     
     the grain, and, when she ate all she wanted, she would jump back into 
     
     the pasture. In the morning she would look as innocent as if she had 
     
    
   
   
    
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