A country sleigh ride.
--The following graphic account of a country sleigh ride we find in an exchange uncredited; but whoever the author may be, we are confident "he has been there and spent the evening:"
"What pleasure in a night sleigh ride!
Six steaming, spanking horses and a driver as furry as a polar bear, his nose just visible above the dasher.
Two or three dozen girls and boys, muffed to their eyes, stowed away with the hot bricks under the buffaloes.
The amicable fight of pairs of lovers for the coveted 'back seat' where are no curious eyes to overlook the young man who, lying his ladyloves tippet under her chin, ties his heart in with it; or tucking the buffalo robe closer about her shoulders, forgets to remove his arm after the operation.
"What pleasure, with the warm blood tingling in cheeks beneath eyes that flash like diamonds; what pleasure, when snow powdered trees, fences, and houses fly past like magic to the merry sounds of musical bells — spelt with and without ante.
What pleasure, when the country inn is reached, where your supper was bespoke the day before, and rolling out of your manifold wrappers, you lift to your lips foaming glasses of hot 'mulled wine,' What pleasure, when we gather round the table, laughing at each other's rosy faces, and discuss oysters and fowl, and more 'mulled wine,' till bones and empty glasses alone remain; we have a good old fashioned 'blindman's buff,' or an unceremonious dance in our comfortable winter dresses.
"What pleasure, when after being deliciously warmed and fed, we pile into the sleigh again, nestling close to the one we like best, and telling the driver to go the longest way home, look up at stars that never gleamed so brightly, and defy fate ever to make us shed a tear for anything."