THE ICE TRUST

Those hardy souls who, if a loftier goal than mere enjoyment did not detain them in Cambridge, would be enjoying the sled runs of Chamonix the toboggan slides of Quebec or even the ski jump at Hanover, can now find a slightly milder joy on the river. From the Lars Anderson Bridge up to Watertown the ice is frozen, and one may choose whether he will frequent the brightly-lighted, windswept expanse near Newell, or go adventuring among the dark coves beyond the infirmary.

For a limited engagement, then, Cambridge offers to the world the only crew course which may be covered, so to speak, on the hoof. Also the more enterprising, by skating close to the banks of the river, may set up a new record for the freshman cross country course, proving the superiority of runners over the orthodox track method. It is appropriate that in the middle of a Reading Period one should have again the Wordsworthian experience of trying to catch the moon, while it glimmers in the dark ice just ahead. Nature does not need to temper her wind to the shorn lamb, not to those whose shearing is close at hand. For the rugged body is almost as necessary as the stocked brain in approaching travail.