D. M. M. Crichton Somerville, Ski-running
“ Off he goes! For ten minutes the swish of the spurting snow is sweet music to his ears; for ten minutes he scorns the soaring albatross, as he feels himself buoyed by the feathering ski, swaying from curve to curve. The excitement of the start has left him, and though ten minutes may seem a short time he enjoys them to the full, for he is calm, and glides easily, without a show of strength, without effort or strain. He feels the mighty power of the rush, the living force which is gathering as he flies, which drives him along, but which is nevertheless under his absolute control. ”
