ved many invitations to
join sleighing parties upon the ice, which generally terminated on the
floor of some old settler's dwelling upon the borders of the Detroit,
Rouge, or Ecorse rivers; where, after a merry jaunt over the frozen
river, we kept the blood in circulation by participating in the
pleasures of the dance. At one of these parties upon the Rouge I
formed two very interesting acquaintances, one of them a beautiful
girl named Estelle Beaubien, the other, Victor Druissel. Estelle was
one of those dark-eyed lively brunettes formed by nature for the
creation of flutterings about the hearts of the sterner sex. She was
full of naive mischief, and coquetry, and having been petted into
imperial sway by the flattery of her courtiers, she punished them by
wielding her sceptre with autocratic despotism--tremble, heart, that
owned her sway yet dared disobey her behests! In the dance she was the
nimblest, in mirth the most gleeful, and in beauty peerless. Victor
Druissel was a tall, dark haired young man, of powerful frame,
intelligent countenance, quiet easy manners, and possessed of a bold,
dark eye, through which the quick movings of his impassioned nature
were much sooner learned than through his words. He appeared to be
devoid of fear, and in either expeditions of pleasure or daring, with
a calmness almost unnatural he led the way. He loved Estelle with all
that fervor so inherent in men of his peculiar temperament, and when
others fluttered around her, seemingly winning lasting favor in her
eyes, he would vainly try to hide the jealousy of his nature.

When morning came Druissel insisted that I should take a seat in his
cutter, as he had come alone. He would rather have taken Estelle as
his companion to the city, but her careful aunt, who always
accompanied her, would not trust herself behind the heels of the
prancing pair of bays harnessed to Victor's sliding chariot. The
sleighs were at length filled with their merry passengers, and my
companion shouting _allons!_ led the cavalcade. We swept over the
chained tide like the wind, our horses' hoofs beating time to the
merry music of their bells, and our laughter ringing out on the clear,
cold air, free and unrestrained as the thoughts of youth.

"I like this," said Victor, as he leaned back and nestled in the furry
robes around us. "This is fun in the old-fashioned way; innocent,
unconstrained, and full of real enjoyment. A fashionable ball is all
well enough in it