Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/156

 crazy to be off. It was a double-seated sleigh, with plenty of buffalo robes, and two little foot- stoves in the bottom, that your grandma brought $ out to keep the gals’ feet warm.

“Out came the two gals in their long cloaks, trimmed with fur, and black velvet bonnets with ostrich plumes fluttering at the sides, each with her purty face buried in a muff.

“Hetty came down to the side of the sleigh first, while Sarah stood dancing up and down on the steps to keep her feet warm.

“Come, Hetty,’ says I, a holding out one hand, ‘you set with me and help drive.’ She seemed a little out of sorts, you know, and I saw her turn away from Mr. Bentley when he came up. This was the reason I asked her to set in front with me.

“She drew back behind her muff, and I saw her look suddenly up at Bentley.

“Oh, yes! get in, get in!’ he said, smiling. ‘Come, Miss Sarah.’

“Hetty caught hold of my hand and sprang into the sleigh without a word. I was busy holding in the team with one hand, and pulling up the buffalo skins around Hetty with the other, and scarcely noticed what the pair behind were doing till Bentley called out,

“‘Here we are, snug and comfortable; touch the horses up with a flourish, Hart; I feel like a bird tonight!’

“A bird of passage, or a bird of prey?’ said Sarah, mischievously; ‘one thing is certain, Dan, he is in the wrong nest. I would much rather have sister Hetty by me.’

“Hetty did not pretend to hear, but I felt her shiver as if with the sudden cold, and pulled the robe over her again, saying, softly, that ‘ Hetty belonged to me.’

“As I tightened the reins and shook out my  whip, it seemed to me that I heard a sob, but that minute the horses started, the bells gave a loud clash, and away we whirled around the house, and up the turnpike like a flash of lightning set to music.

“If you want to see rale downright fun, gal, try a genuine sleigh-ride on a night like that. Horses with their blood on fire—bells running over with music—roads beat down to marble— snow-balls rattling from the horses’ hoofs—clouds of steam pouring from their nostrils and freezing into little icicles on the under jaw—whip cracking on the frosty air, and all the naked trees, with every twig and bough pictured on the snow- crust that spreads and glitters miles and miles around you; with the moon smiling over head, and lots on lots of stars blinking and sparkling in its path. I tell you agin, gal, if there is genuine fun in the world, that’s it.”

‘Oh, how I should like to have one good ride like that,” said Gillian, sparkling all over with excitement.

‘You shall, gal—when snow comes you shall, or my name isn’t Daniel Hart,” said the farmer, heartily.

‘‘With such horses, plenty of bells, and you to drive, uncle?”

“Yes, yes, we'll have the old times over again; trust uncle Dan for the team. He’s up to a winter campaign yet.”

‘And we shall take the same road, and stop at the deacon’s?”

The farmer drew back in his chair.

“‘The same road, gal? Stop at the deacon’s? God help us, gal, the deacon, his wife, and that young creature, has been dead these ten years. The old house is torn down, and the grave-yard No, Gillian, you shall have the sleigh-ride, but we must go round the hill, not over it, as we did that night.”

“‘Well, you had a pleasant evening, then, uncle; and that is a great deal, because the  memory of one happy evening lives forever, you   know—forever and ever; so tell me of that one happy ride, and we will trust heaven for the next, which is sure to come—for I always find my wishes sooner or later, like fairy gifts, dear uncle.”

The old man looked down upon her with.a glance of hearty affection.

“Always chirk and full of hope, just as she was!”

“But I’m afraid—just the least bit afraid, you know, uncle—that my dear mamma was making a fool of Mrs. Bentley; you remember about the back seat, and all that?”

“It may be I don’t pretend to understand it up to this day. Your mother was a young critter that none of us could calculate upon; not even Hetty, who always says that we had no right to judge her, because she was so far above us all.”

“Then that pale little lady—aunt Hetty—how strange it seems that you should be telling of sleigh-rides which she enjoyed, just as I should now. That nice little lady remembers and loves my mother yet. Ill go and kiss her in the morning, hang back as she will—just see if I don’t.”

‘Yes, if ever one human being loved another, Hetty loved your mother; to this day, she never mentions her name without gt@wing pale and shivering, as if she was a-cold,”

‘Dear lady!”

“That night she seemed troubled about