PETERSFIELD.
THE HEATH POND.—On the morn of Valentine, one fine piece of water was covered with as glassy a face of ice, as is remembered by the oldest inhabitant, at this time of the year, which brought down unexpectedly from their places of deposit, the skates that had been laid by for the ensuing season; put completely into full life the lovers of this delightful exercise, and set all a-gog, even the more humble, but yet more numerous body, of sliders. The day was delightful, and natures animated appearance from this lovely spot, was increased by the cheering rays of bright Sol, in full splendour, giving uncommon vigour to the bipeds, whose best understandings were brought into action, with a determination to show the power of the body when called into play, with true enjoyment of this noble exercise. The chilling embrace of our northern friend, was anything but cheering to our feathered songsters, whose matching anniversary was reserved and coy, and their cooing was placed under the Banff silence. Not so, however, with the beaux and belles of our town and neighbourhood, if the postal delivery is any criterion, as a greater number of valentines, than ever before known, passed through the hands of our different postmen.