THE

ROVER.

THE SLEIGH-RIDE.

"Her bonnet and her gloves are on,
She jumps into the sleigh,

And swift they ride by the mountain side,
And over the hills away."

ciently rich and well-cultivated back country has been the only barrier to its prosperity. Notwithstanding its great natural advantages the harbor of Townsend presents nothing but an insignificant village, of perhaps twenty houses, to the innumerable vessels that yearly enter its noble anchorage, as a retreat from the terrible storms that sweep along our iron-bound coast.

At the commencement of our story it was less than even at present. A group of low, ill-built houses might be seen, to each of which was attached a small patch of ground illy cultivated, containing a few potatoes, beets and onions, and a corner devoted to herbs, supposed to possess great medical virtues. Occasionally a lupin, four o'clock, or even lady's delight might be seen struggling to the light, showing that these beautiful creations, that seem to shadow forth woman's destiny, even here assert their influence over her taste

OUR readers, we are sure, cannot fail to be pleased with the beautiful picture of the sleigh-ride which we present them this week. It is finely engraved, and full of life and spirit. It is copied from a London engraving, representing a sleigh-ride in the neighborhood of Paris, France; for they do have snow enough in France once in a few years to afford them sleighing for a few hours. The scene represented in the engraving is said to be a true picture of a ride by one of the most fashionable high bloods of Europe. We should like to see that fellow undertake to trot by the side of Sam Slick Esq., the clockmaker, or try to go ahead of uncle Joshua's gray mare of Downingville. Perhaps and affections, though under circumstances least calwe may be able bye-and-by to give our readers a pic-culated to call them forth. ture of one of those Yankee concerns, by way of contrast with this Parisian style of sleigh-riding.

My bark is my courser so gallant and brave;
Like a steed of the prairie she bounds o'er the wave,
And the breast of the billow as onward I roam
Swelling proudly to meet her is flecked by her foam.

Like the winds which the canvas exultingly fill,
I float as I list, and I rove as I will;
The breeze cannot baffle, for with it I veer,

We must enter the smallest of these houses, though by far the neatest and most tasteful in its appearance; for a few morning-glories have been placed in a box under the window, and the half-closed blossoms, and abundant leaves, are clustering in rich luxuriance around the lattice. There are many other articles, such as one would hardly expect to find in a dwelling of so extremely humble an exterior; all showing the busy taste of woman, that will always make the "desert blossom as the rose."

About the year 17- might be seen at almost all times when the weather was fine, a beautiful child, with large black eyes, and a profusion of dark hair, curling over her shoulders, gathering smooth shells,

Or with sheet taughten'd home, in the wind's eye I and rounded pebbles, along the shore of the fine har

steer.

O'er the pages of story the student may pore,
The trumpet the soldier may charm to the war,
In the forest the hunter his heaven may see,
But the bounding blue water and shallop for me.

With no haven before me-beneath me my home-
All heaven around me wherever I roam,

I am free-I am free as the shrill piping gale,
That whistles its music as onward I sail.

MARGARET HAINES.

BY ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH.

BYRON.

bor of Townsend. It was Margaret Haines, the orphan grandchild of a respectable widow, somewhat advanced in life, who occupied the neat little dwelling we have described. Mrs. Haines had been a woman of great vigor of character, and strong original mental capacity; but age and sorrow for the loss of her husband and three sons, all of whom perished at sea, in following the hazardous career of the sailor, had impaired her powers: and being thus bereaved of all other natural objects of attachment, she concentrated her affections upon Margaret, the sole relic of her children. This deep attachment for her grandchild became, in some degree, elevated by the blending of a deep and ardent piety, that grew more fervent as the light of life waxed dim in the socket. Still Margaret was left almost entirely to the guidance of her own will.

"And she must lay her conscious head, A husband's trusting heart beside." THE scene of our story opens in one of the many beautiful harbors of Maine, and being the birth-place She was never weary of wandering about the seaof our principal character, it will be proper to give a | girt rocks, of watching the snowy gull poised upon the more explicit description of the locality than we other-crested wave, the active hawk diving for his prey, and wise should.

the proud, but treacherous eagle, from his lonely crag, Upon each side of the harbor appears a cape, stretch- watching the sports of his victims in the still air being out into the sea, and protecting it from the heavy neath him. Her naturally vigorous and enthusiastic swell of the ocean-a small green Island, covered with character imbibed new strength from the circumstances low trees, which add much to its picturesque appear- of the locality in which her lot was cast, and strange ance, rises in front, leaving a channel on either hand and exalted emotions swelled the breast of the lone sufficiently deep for the largest vessels. Few harbors child, in her daily intercourse with the majesty of naare more safe, beautiful or commodious than this, or ture. The romantic stories, too, with which her aged would seem more to indicate the location for a great parent nightly beguiled her ear, exerted their influence commercial city; and probably the want of a suffi- upon her character, and gave the coloring to her destiVOL. II.-No. 17.