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(From the Ladies' Companion.) THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. By the Author of ‘the Brothers,’ ‘ Cromwell,’ &c.

There are few wilder spots on earth than the deep wooden gorge through which the waters of 'the mad Ashuelot rush northward from the pel- lucid lakelets, embosomed in the eastern spurs of the great Allegheny chain, whence it starts rash and rapid—meet emblem of ambitious man —upon its brief career of foam and fury. The hills—nodutains, in bold abruptness, if Inottby actuall height entitled to the name—Sinking ,t’ecipfitons and sheer to the bed of the chafing river, which, in the course of ages, has escaped and channelled their rude sides and cleft the livinggranite a hundred fathom down, have left scant space below for a wild road, here hewu or blasted through strata of the eternal rock, there reared upon abutments of rough logs, and traver- sing some five times in each mile of distance, the douous torrent, as it wheels off in arrowy angles 'komzside to side of its stern channel. Above, sis-perpendicularly do the cliffs ascend, that the huge-pines, which shoot out from each clift and crevice of their seamed flanks, far overhang the path,.dropping their scaly cones into the boiling cauldrons ofthe stream, and almost interlacing their black boughs ; so that midsunimer’s noon scarce-pours a wintry twilight into the deep and cavernous ravine, while a November’s eve low- era-darker than a starless midnight. Even now, when the hand of enterprise has dotted the whole circumjacent re ion with prosperous farms and thrivin villag ,1 it is a desolate and gloomy pass; ut in the years immediater succeeding the‘war of the independence—when, for unnum- bered miles, the land around was clothed in its

rimeval garniture of forest—when but two tiny hamlets, Keene and Fitzwilliam, had been lately founded on the mountain track, at that time the solo thoroughfare between the young states of New Hampshire and Vermont, with scarce Ihuman habitation in all the dreary miles that [intervened between those infant settlements, it was indeed as fearful, ay, and as perilous a route ascver struck‘dismay into the bosom of a lone traveller. Those were rude days but stern ! those were days, that, in truth, and in more ‘llodes than one, tried—shrewdly tried—men’s souls! War had, indeed, passed over,—but man-y of its worst attributes and adjuncts still harassed the unsettled land. Traffic had been well nigh abolished—the culture of the earth had been neglected—want, bitter want, pervaded the whole country—the minds of men, long-used to violence, strife, and rapine, slowly regained their calm and governed tenor—disbanded soldiers, the outcasts of the patriot forces, broken and desperate characters, roamed singly or in bands,

bed and 'moaned:among the giant pines, thatlent a heavier gloom to the dark twilight road, raved out in savage gusts, whirling away the smaller branches like straws, in their mad dalliance ; the rain at every lull, plashing upon the slippery rocks—the thunder crashing and roaring at the zenith, and the pale fires of heaven flashing in ghostly sheets across the narrow stripe of sky, which alone showed between the wood-fringed cliffs gloomiug on either hand, five hundred feet aloft. Yet not for rain or storm did-the good charger flinch, or the bold rider curb him.~ '

With his head bowed upon his breast, his rein relaxed and free, and his foot firm in the stirrup, as confident in the high qualities of his generous steed, fleetly and fearlessly he galloped forward ; turn after turn of the stern glen he doubled-— bridge after bridge clattered beneath his thun- dering strideomile after mile was won, and now, as he wheeled round the base of a huge rocky buttress—from which the stream, rubbed by its massy weight, swept off in a wide reach to the right hand, while on the left the hills receded somewhat from its brink, leaving a sylvan amphi- theatre of a few acres circuit—the lights of the small wayside’inn, known in those days to all who traversed the frontiers of the neighboring states, as Hartley’s Hawknest, glanced cheerfully upon the traveller’s eyes. It was a long, low, log-built tenement, with several latticed windows looking towards the river which it faced, the upper story projecting so far as to constitute a rugged sort of galleried piazza. A glorious weeping elm, that loveliest of forest trees, stood at the southern end ; its drooping foliage, sere now, and changed from its rich verdure, overshadowing many a yard of ground, and its gigantic trunk, garnished with rings and staples whereto were fastened, as the stranger galloped up two, or three sorry-looking, ill-conditioned horses, meanly caparisoned with straw-stuffed pads and heinpen halters, waiting the leisure of their masters, who were employed— as many a snatch of vulgar song, and many a burst ofdissonant harsh language pealing into the bosom of the night, betokened—in rude debauch- ery within. A rudely-fashioned spout oftimber discharged a stream of limpid water into a huge stone cistern, whence it leaped with a merry murmur, and ran gurgling down apebbled channel to join the river in the bottom—and beyond this, a long range ofsheds and stabling stood out at a right angle to the tavern.

Pausing before the open shed, the stranger saw with no small feelings of annoyance, that the whole length of its unplaned and sordid manger was occupied by a large drove of horses; while, by the stamp of hoofs within, and muzzling sounds as of beasts busy with their provender, he readily guessed that the stables, also, were completely crowded. Linking his panting charger, there-

witbout resources or employment, through every elite of the new union ; nor had the Indian, un- dismayed by the weak government of the scarce- Iormed republic, ceased from his late indulged career of massacre and havoc. Such was the period—such the nature of the times—when on I lowering and fitful evening towards the last days of October, a mounted traveller was seen to pass the sandhills, which form the jaws of the gorge on the southern side, on his way north- ward, to Vermont ; wherein large tracts of for- tile land were ofi'ered by the government for sale, at rates which tempted many to become purchasers and settlers in that romantic district.

The sun had set already when he rode past the door of the one lowly tavern which then, as for the most part is the case in all new settle- ments, was the chief building of Fitzwilliam. A hea'ry mass of dark grey clouds, surging up slow- ly from the west, had occupied, at least one-half of the fast-darkening firmament; broad pouts of rain fell one by one at distant intervals ; and the deep melancholy sough of the west wind wailed through the dismal gorge of the Ashuelot in sure foreboding of the near tempest. The landlord of that humble hostelry stood in his lonely doorway, and warned the belated wayfarer to light down for the night, and take the morning with him for his guide through the wild pass that lay before him ; but he who was thus timedly warned, shook his head only in reply, and asking, in his turn, the distance to Hartley’s Hawknest tavern, learned that six miles, of dangerous wild road, yet intervened between him and his desired harbor. For halfa minute he seemed as though be doubted, for he drew in his rein and gazed with an inquiring glance toward the threatening heavens; at all events, his hesitation, if such it were, soon ended, he doubled the cape of his short horseman’s cloak closer about his neck, touched his horse lightly with the spur, and can- tered moderately onward. He was a tall and slight, though sinewy figure, with something in his air, and in the practised grace wherewith he sat and wheeled his horse, that spoke of military service—nor did his dress, although not strictly martial, belie the supposition ; the square-topped cap of otter-skin, the braided loops and frogs on his hussar-like cloak, and leathern breeches, and high boots, equipped with long brass spurs, were by no means dissimilar to the accoutrements of sundry among the regiments, of continental horse, disbanded at the termination of the war, although divested of the lace and colored facings, which would have made them strictly uniform. The animal, moreover, which he rode, having evidently been subjected to the manage, for he was well upon his haunches, with the arched neck and light mouth champing on the bit, that speaks to a certainty that he was a charger—his fiddle, 100. equipped with holsters at the bow, and a small valisse at the cantle, was covered with a handsome bear-skin ; while the bridle, with its nose-bag, its cavesson, and brass-scaled frontlet, had yet more certainly been decorated so for no pacific purpose. Darker, and darker yet, frowned the dim skies above him, as thread- ing the black pass, with no guide save the cha- _ , xed waters, and the white glis- tening of their tertured spray, he hastened on- ward ; and now the wind, which had long sob-

fore, to one of the hooks in’the elm-tree, and throwing his own cloak across his croupe, he stepped across the threshold into the thronged and smoky bar ro'b‘rh. The inn, as he had but too surely angure‘d, was crowded to the utmost— a drove of horses, on their way southward from Vermont, had come in that same evening, their drivers had engaged every bed and pallet in the house—a dozen farmers of the neighbourhood, scared from proceeding on their homeward routes by the terrific aspect ofthe night, had occupied the little parlor—the very bar room floor was strewn with buffalos and blankets, whereupon reposed a dozen sturdy forms, seemingly undis- turbed by the obscene and stormy revelling of their comrades, who had preferred a night-long drinking bout to a hard couch and uncertain slumbers. There needed scarce a question to ascertain that not a spot remained where he could spread his cloak ; nor, which weighed most with him, a shed, however lowly, wherein to stable his good horse. Nothing remained, then, butto pro- cure a feed of oats for the worn animal, some slight refreshment for himself, and to proceed, as best he might, to Keene, still twelve miles distant, with the worst portions ofthe road yet to be over- come.

No long space did it take the youth, for he was young and eminently handsome; and, as the lights displayed his blythe and active symmetry, set offby a close frock of forest green, edged in accordance with the fashion of the day, by a thin cord of gold, none who looked on him could fail to discover the gentleman of birth and breeding in every feature of his face, in every gesture of his active frame. And eagerly and keenly did many an eye ofthose who revelled round him, and of those who seemed to slumber, scan his whole form, and dress, and bearing. Several gaunt, wolfish looking men, muflled-in belted blanket coats, bearded and grim and hideouS, proffered him their revolting hospitality, and would fain, as it seemed, have entered into converse with him; but while offending none by any thing of haughtiness or direct avoidance, he yet withdrew himself from their company, and sat wrapped in his own meditations until the voice of the land- lord summoned him to the scanty meal, which he discussed in haste, and standing; this ended he drew forth his purse to pay his reckoning; nOr was it till he noted the quick and fiery glances which shot from many an eye, dwelt gloatinle upon the silken network, through which gleamed many a golden coin, that he became aware of his imprudence in drawing out so large a sum, as he had thus unwittingly displayed before so doubt- ful an assemblage. Nor did the consequences of his error fail to stand visibly before him, when sundry of the bystanders offered to yield their places to the stranger, should he prefer to tarry ; and one, a. tall, dark-visaged, gloomy-looking man, wearing a long, formidable butcher-knife in his buff belt, and holding a long rifle in his hand, announced his attention to ride some three miles on the way toward Keene, forthwith, to the spot where his own homeward‘paih branched off from the main road, tendered his services and company as a guide well acquainted with the pass”; and even offered him a night’s lodging in his own cabin. While thus addressed, the

150k. which the landlord cast toward him as lire handed him his change; but semi! "9 "‘9 6 whereby to avoid the mall’s “may, and 393?? that he should more easrly be able to _ eedn himselfifassailed, against a person by his Mme: than against one who might, ,“llseen' w.ayh ,y him he was contented With declining the pig ts lodging, and courteously accepted his aflsmnfig as a guide. The Wind had ‘l‘me 5”" a: the again mounted his recruited charger, an d k storm had swept over; yet was the road .as at as a wolf’s mouth through the ravine, Whlch "a" rowed more and more, as they proceeded farther, and was even more obscured by the Prec'P’lous hills, and overhanging foliage- S’OWlY all? journeyed on, compelled to spare theirsge: kl the deep channels and huge stones whic r0 8 the surface of the path, and close and various were the questionings to which the traveller was subjected by his acute, although untutored guide. Acute, however, as he was, he_ met “I the stranger, his full match; for, seemingly respohd- ing to each query with perfect and accommodating frankness, be yet contrived to say no_word which should give any clue to his intentions or his destination; so that when they had reached the spot where their paths separated, the country- man knew nothing more than when they had set forth, of his companion’s views or business. “ Well, sir, he said, speaking in better inn» gnage than might have been expectedfrorri his appearance and demeanour, “ well, sir, _smce you will not accept my humble hospitality, I wish you a good night. We shall most likely never meet again—ifso, I wish you well, Sir. I, too, have been a soldier—mind, when you reach the next bridge, directly you have passed it, you take the right hand path; a little brook you’ll have to ford, and it may be a thought high from this rain, but you will find it safe and a good bottom. No ! no !’ he added, as the traveller would have slipped a guinea into the hand he had extended—“ no! no! I have done you no service; I will take no reward' Good nightl’ ‘ Good night, and thanks!’ returned the other —and they parted ; the traveller, in halfrepentant thought, blaming himself with generous self- reproach for the suspicious fears he had half en- tertained of his guide’s good faith, and for the moment, well nigh regretting that he had not accompanied the other to his hospitable home. But thoughts like these were soon absorbed in the necessity of looking to the guidance of his horse among the various difficulties ofdarlrness and an unknown road—and now he reached the first bridge, and the cross track by which he was di- rected to proceed. Yet, though he had forgot no syllable of his instructions, he hesitated ;for the left hand was evidently the most travelled route, and that by which he had been told to journey seemed but a narrow and occasional bye path. He hesitated, and while he stood there, a wild whooping cry rang on his ear ; a melancholy, long-protracted wail, followed by the quick flap- ping of wide wings. As the first sound burst upon his ear, the horseman started and halfturned in his saddle, thrusting his hand, meantime, into his ready holsters—but as the final notes were followed by the heavy rush ofpinions on the night wind—’ Why, what a timorous fool am I,’ he mut~ tered, ‘ to be thus scared by the chance clamour ofa silly fowl! Well! ’tis ofa piece with my late doubts,’ and setting spurs to his reluctant horse —reluctant to turn into that bye path—he ‘trot- ted forward. A few steps brought him to a small gloomy hollow—the bed ofthe brooklet mentioned by the farmer—now swollen by the late storm into the semblance ofa wintry torrent, brawling among loose stones, and at a few yards distance from the ford dashing a sheet of broad white foam over a rocky ridge into the fierce Ashuelot. The trees grew close down to the brink on either hand, o'er canopying the dismal ford—the water was as black as Acheron ! The traveller drew in his rein, and steered his charger cautiously down the steep bank, when, as his fore feet touched the merge, a heavy blow was dealt him from behind With a huge bludgeon, bowing him to the horse’s neck. Before he could recover, a second blow followed which aimed at the juncture of the spine and skull, a flash of myriad sparks streamed through his reeling eyes—~his brain spun round andround—aud with a heavy sullen splash he fell into the shallow pool—a strong hand wheel- ed the charger round, and a smart blow upon the quarters, senthim in full career over the self—same road which he had lately traversed under the gurdance ofa master’s hand. The freshness of the water laving his forehead, lent, for a moment, a new life to the wounded traveller—he sprung to his feet and grappled at the throat of his unseen

“ Next Monday, Daniel O‘Connell in a great meeting in Exeter hall, as aT‘ perance advocate. Our society has engaged t "" for the occasion, and expect an overflow'_ ,i, house. It is said he signed the total absti " pledge last Saturday. In Scotland, the nu ‘ of pledged members have doubled Within . past year, and the Welsh have also been adv ' ‘. cing in the great cause. We think in Great. Britain and Ireland, there cannot be less than three millions, two hundred thousand abstain. from all that can intoxicate. Our society ism .' supporting nine agents, and we hope before lo _ r' that every town and village will have a soc‘ The only government measure which has take place in our favour since you were here, is thd} closing all beer and spirit shops on the Sabbath. until one o’clock. This has produced a change-r for the better, and we must be thankful for it. .r Our last annual meeting was a splendid affair}; the delegate meeting passed off well, but the, procession on Whitsunday, astonished ereu’ ' ‘ tee-totallers themselves.” , m

It consisted of 20,000 members ofthe societpgf, marching in an orderly manner. through varied. parts of the city, surrounded by hundreds cfi

thousands of lockers on.

How TO MAKE Goon Burma—In infusing”: ' good bread can be had from the baker, .Il‘the country, in farmers’ houses, where the within]: her daughters are operatives, the bread is rally excellent; but in how many families heavy and sour bread not an unfrequent cur 1fthe mothers realized that every batch ofso , heavy, or unbaked bread was impairing the health of their families, pimpling the fair skins oftheir daughters, and irritating the tempera their children, would they net feel that makitlfis‘ good bread was a moral obligation—I had aim, said a religious duty’! There is a law am', »3 the Arabs, that permits a m‘ln to divorce “3‘, the four wives allowed him, who does not main: good bread. It is so simple, that we have heard , many a housewife, in" answer. to the questiong‘; “ What is necessary to secure good bread 1”}; reply, “ Nothing but attention.” Ah, attention}, ._ that secret of success in every art and every ‘ science—attention, which has produced thg masterpieces of sculpture and paintings, and reveals the law ofgravity, makes our good bread, and cooks in perfection our mutton chops—Q Alarms and Ends. ."

Lasers—It would be a blessing to society and’ * to our country, if the press would unite in demning the pernicious idea, that labor and true ., respectability are foreign to each other, that they cannot exist together, and that in order to mer' the smiles of the fair, and the respectful cons' rations of the worthy, one must display asoft an" ' untanned hand, and decorate it with a silken glove. Then would the efl‘eminate creatures» who call themselves men, and who disgrace that once honoured title, decrease in number ; then would our workshops be filled with industrious mechanics, and our farms be cultivated and ten-- dered fruitful by a hardy and independent yeo- manry. Then would knavery, bankruptcy, garri- bling, indolence, servility and hypocrisy in a , great measure cease, and asione of the surest means of securing honourable consideration, a man would wish the world to know him to be-— what God intended he should be-—-a LABOREB. -—Pawtucket‘iflazettc. ‘ . , GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.--An En authority states that the grand total of capital represented by all property in Great Britain and Ireland is estimated at “£3,629,000,000. Then. ‘3: value of all sorts of public property is 56103.00!»~ ‘ 000.—The' value of lands, houses, railroads,- mines, animals, timber, crops, doc. is estimated at £2,945,000,000. The val~ * .of all Sorts of furniture, apparel, plate, speciergoney in Chan- cery, Savings Banks, &c., is’e'stimated at ma 000,000.

Sunnwn REPLY.—-A prisoner in England, when called upon by the Alderman for his de- fence, said, “ I’ve ordered a lawyer for to-mor- row, and I hope your lordship will be so good fits. to put it off till he comes.” “ Why, what can the lawyer say about it '!” asked his worship. " That’s what I want to know, please your wor— ship,” replied the prisoner.