desert" reached the horizon on every side, with nothing to mark that any mortal had ever visited the scene before, except a few rude buts that were scattered near its centre; and a road, or rather pathway, for those whom business or necessity obliged to pass in that direction. At length, deserted as this wild region had always been, it became still more gloomy. Strange rumours arose, that the path of unwary travellers had been beset on this"blasted heath," and that treachery and murder had intercepted the solitary stranger as he traversed its dreary extent. When several persons, who were known to have passed that way, mysteriously disappeared, the inquiries of their relatives led to a strict and anxious investigation; but though the officers of justice were sent to scour the country, and examine the inhabitants, not a trace could be obtained of the persons in question, nor of any place of concealment which could be a refuge for the lawless or desperate to horde in. Yet, as inquiry became stricter, and the disappearance of individuals more frequent, the simple inhabitants of the neighbouring hamlet were agitated by the most fearful apprehensions.

Gradually the inhabitants deserted their dwellings on the heath, and settled in distant quarters, till at length but one of the cottages continued to be inhabited by an old woman and her two sons, who loudly lamented that poverty chained them to this solitary and mysterious spot. Travellers who frequented this road now generally did so in groups to protect each other; and if night overtook them, they usually stopped at the humble cottage of the old woman and her sons, where cleanliness compensated for the want of luxury, and where, over a blazing fire of peat, the bolder spirits smiled at the imaginary terrors of the road, and the more timid trembled as they listened to the tales of terror and affright with which their hosts entertained them.

One gloomy and tempestuous night in November, a pedlar-boy hastily traversed the moor. Terrified to find himself involved in darkness amidst its boundless wastes, a thousand frightful traditions, connected with this dreary scene, darted across his mind-every blast, as it swept in hollow gusts over the heath, seemed to teem with the sighs of de. parted spirits and the birds, as they winged their way above his head, appeared, with loud and shrill cries, to warn him of approaching danger. The whistle with which he usually beguiled his weary pilgrimage died away into silence, and he groped along with trembling and uncertain steps, which sounded too loudly in his cars.

A light now glimmered in the distance which would lead him, he conjectured, to the cottage of the old woman; and towards that he eagerly bent his way. His first call for admission obtained no visible marks of attenVOL. I. 4 L

tion, but instantly the greatest noise and confusion prevailed within the cottage. They think it is one of the supernatural visitants of whom the old lady talks so much, thought the boy, approaching a window, where the light within showed him all the inhabitants at their several occupations; the old woman was hastily scrubbing the stone floor, and strewing it thickly over with sand, while her two sons seemed with equal haste to be thrusting something large and heavy into an immense chest, which they carefully locked. The boy, in a frolicsome mood, thoughtlessly tapped at the window, when they all instantly started up with consternation so strongly depicted on their countenances, that he shrunk back involuntarily with an undefined feeling of apprehension; but before he had time to reflect a moment longer, one of the men suddenly darted out at the door, and seizing the boy roughly by the shoulder, dragged him violently into the cottage. "I am not what you take me for," said the boy, attempting to laugh, "but only the poor pedlar who visited you last year." "Are you alone ?" inquired the old woman, in a harsh deep tone, which made his heart thrill with apprehension. "Yes," said the boy, I am alone here; and alas!" he added, with a burst of uncontrollable fecling, "I am alone in the wide world also! Not a person exists who would assist me in distress, or shed a single tear if I died this very night." "Then you are welcome!" said one of the men with a sneer, while he cast a glance of peculiar expression at the other inhabitants of the cottage.

It was with a shiver of apprehension, rather than of cold, that the boy drew towards the fire, and the looks which the old woman and her sons exchanged, made him wish that he had preferred the shelter of any one of the roofless cottages which were scattered near, rather than trust himself among persons of such dubious aspect. Dreadful surmises fitted across his brain; and terrors which he could neither combat nor examine imperceptibly stole into his mind; but alone, and beyond the reach of assistance, he resolved to smother his suspicions, or at least not increase the danger by revealing them. The room to which he retired for the night had a confused and desolate aspect; the curtains seemed to have been violently torn down from the bed, and still hung in tatters around it-the table seemed to have been broken by some violent concussion, and the fragments of various pieces of furniture lay scattered upon the floor. The boy begged that a light might burn in his apartment till he was asleep, and anxiously examined the fastenings of the door; but they seemed to have been wrenched asunder on some former occasion, and were still left rusty and broken.

It was long ere the pedlar attempted to compose his agitated nerves to rest, but at length his senses began to “steep themselves

in forgetfulness," though his imagination remained painfully active, and presented new scenes of terror to his mind, with all the vividness of reality. Suddenly the boy was startled from these agitated slumbers, by what sounded to him like a cry of distress; he was broad awake in a moment, and sat up in bed-but the noise was not repeated, and he endeavoured to persuade himself it had only been a continuation of the fearful images which had disturbed his rest, when, on glancing at the door, he observed underneath it a broad red stream of blood silently stealing its course along the floor. Frantic with alarm, it was but the work of a moment to spring from his bed, and rush to the door, through a chink of which, his eye nearly dimmed with affright, he could watch unsuspected whatever might be done in the adjoining room.

His fear vanished instantly when he perceived that it was only a goat that they had been slaughtering; and he was about to steal into his bed again, ashamed of his groundless apprehensions, when his ear was arrested by a conversation which transfixed him aghast with terror to the spot.

"This is an easier job than you had yesterday," said the man who held the goat. I wish all the throats we've cut were as easily and quietly done. Did you ever hear such a noise as the old gentleman made last night! It was well we had no neighbour within a dozen of miles, or they must have heard his cries for help and mercy."

"Don't speak of it," replied the other; "I was never fond of bloodshed."

"Ha! ha!" said the other, with a sneer, 66 you say so, do you?"

"I do," answered the first gloomily; "the Murder Hole is the thing for me that tells no tales-a single scuffle-a single plunge-and the fellow's dead and buried to your hand in a moment. I would defy all the officers in Christendom to discover any

mischief there."

"Ay, Nature did us a good turn when she contrived such a place as that. Who that saw a hole in the heath, filled with clear water, and so small that the long grass meets over the top of it, would suppose that the depth is unfathomable, and that it conceals more than forty people who have met their deaths there ?—it sucks them in like a leech!"

"How do you mean to despatch the lad in the next room ?" asked the old woman in an under tone. The elder son made her a sign to be silent, and pointed towards the door where their trembling auditor was concealed; while the other, with an expression of brutal ferocity, passed his bloody knife across his throat.

The pedlar boy possessed a bold and daring spirit, which was now roused to desperation; but in any open resistance the

odds were so completely against him, that flight seemed his best resource. He gently stole to the window, and having by one desperate effort broke the rusty bolt by which the casement had been fastened, he let himself down without noise or difficulty. This betokens good, thought he, pausing an instant in dreadful hesitation what direction to take. This momentary deliberation was fearfully interrupted by the hoarse voice of the men calling aloud, "The boy has fled— let loose the blood-hound!” These words sunk like a death-knell on his heart, for escape appeared now impossible, and his nerves seemed to melt away like wax in a furnace. Shall I perish without a struggle! thought he, rousing himself to exertion, and, helpless and terrified as a hare pursued by its ruthless hunters, he fled across the heath. Soon the baying of the blood-hound broke the stillness of the night, and the voice of its masters sounded through the moor, as they endeavoured to accelerate its speed-panting and breathless the boy pursued his hopeless career, but every moment his pursuers seemed to gain upon his failing steps. The hound was unimpeded by the darkness which was to him so impenetrable, and its noise rung louder and deeper on his ear-while the lanterns which were carried by the men gleamed near and distinct upon his vision.

At his fullest speed, the terrified boy fell with violence over a heap of stones, and having nothing on but his shirt, he was severely cut in every limb. With one wild cry to Heaven for assistance, he continued prostrate on the earth, bleeding, and nearly insensible. The hoarse voices of the men, and the still louder baying of the dog, were now so near, that instant destruction seemed inevitable-already he felt himself in their fangs, and the bloody knife of the assassin appeared to gleam before his eyes-despair renewed his energy, and once more, in an agony of affright that seemed verging towards madness, he rushed forward so rapidly that terror seemed to have given wings to his feet. A loud cry near the spot he had left arose on his ears without suspending his flight. The hound had stopped at the place where the pedlar's wounds bled so profusely, and deeming the chase now over, it lay down there, and could not be induced to proceed; in vain the men beat it with frantic violence, and tried again to put the hound on the scent-the sight of blood had satisfied the animal that its work was done, and with dogged resolution it resisted every induce ment to pursue the same scent a second time. The pedlar boy in the mean time paused not in his flight till morning dawned

and still as he fled, the noise of steps seemed to pursue him, and the cry of his assassins still sounded in the distance. Ten miles off he reached a village, and spread instant alarm throughout the neighbourhood

To obtain a good Ice-well.-To obtain a good ice-well, you should choose a spot looking towards the north, the soil either sand, gravel, or chalk, wherein you can easily build a well which will drain itself, the water soaking into the soil by a waste well made under the other. An ice-well should be larger round than it is deep, for it is a common error to imagine that the deeper a well is, the better; on the contrary, we know that the water naturally runs toward the depth, and, drawing towards the wells, penetrates through the brick-work, and produces a humidity that melts the ice. To avoid this, a good well should be built with double walls, at the distance of eighteen inches or two feet apart, and the interval between filled up with ashes, or any other matter of an absorbent quality. The well must be built with a domed top (like a soup tureen), and a hole in the centre left to receive the ice. Over the dome of brickwork there should be a covering of earth, at least six feet in thickness, upon which a plantation may be formed, to keep off the sun's rays: the hole in the centre of the dome should have a neck (like a large chimney-pot), secured with a strong cover of iron, running up through the superincumbent earth three or four feet, and should be kept always well covered with soil, and turfed over, as soon as the well is filled, to prevent any access of air in that direction. At the side of the well, upon a line with the bottom of the dome, an entrance must be made to take out the ice: it should consist of a porch with double doors, the outer of which must be covered with straw, or thatched, and every crevice in both doors stopped up and made as air-tight as possible. A dry time ought to be chosen for filling the well; the ice should be broken as small as possible, in order that it may re-unite in the interior; and three or four men should be employed in levelling and pounding it, till the well is filled to the very top; if a long frost ensues, it should be filled up from time to time, as the ice first introduced will diminish considerably in bulk as it forms itself into a compact mass, by freezing in the well. When the ice is taken out, every precaution should be adopted to prevent the rush of a volume of air into the well upon the opening of the doors. At first, the ice must be taken out as it comes to band, until the mass sinks to a level with the door; but afterwards, by means of a ladder, it must be taken from the sides of the well, all round quite down to the bottom, leaving the centre to the last, which will be found solid and compact even in the midst of sum

mer if, on the contrary, the ice is first taken away from the middle, you disturb the body, and the air which introduces itself will destroy more than you consume. The first object, it must be always recollected, in preserving the ice in a well, is to keep it dry; and if unfortunately the well is placed in a soil that will not permit it to drain itself, a pump must be fixed on the outside to draw off the water accumulated in the waste wellItalian Confectioner.

Sugar from Hay.—A Vienna paper contains the following curious paragraph, which it puts forward with much gravity :-" A criminal confined in the House of Correction in this city pretends to have discovered a mode of making sugar out of hay. It is well known that all vegetables contain more or less saccharine matter, but the discoverer maintains that it is so abundant in hay, that a pound of sugar may be obtained, by a simple process, from six pounds of hay. It is said that the government, which liberally supports all useful discoveries, will pay par ticular attention to this one."

Mode of Preparing and Use of Pyrothonide.-M. Ranque, physician of the Hotel Dieu at Orleans, has introduced into the Materia-medica, a substance produced by the combustion of linen, hemp, or cotton cloth, in the open air. He considers it useful in various inflammatory affections of the mucous membranes, and more especially in opthalmia, urethral and vaginal catarrh, uterine hemorrhages, and chilblains. Many physicians of the hospitals have repeated these experiments with varied results.

To prepare pyrothonide, take a handful of cloth, old or new, place it in a shallow basin, set fire to it, moving it about so that the basin do not become too hot; after the combustion is finished, throw out the ashes; at the bottom of the vessel will be found a semi-aqueous, semi-oleaginous product, of a reddish brown colour, and possessing a pungent odour. Pour upon this five ounces of cold water, which will dissolve it entirely, forming the solution of pyrothonide, which is used in a more or less diluted state, as may be requisite, for collyria, fomentations, &c. -Medical and Surgical Journal.

Coffee of Acorns.-Coffee made of acorns is less stimulating than the cinchona; hence. it possesses the advantages without the inconveniencies of the astringents-the stomach bears it better. In fact it is an excellent stomachic, and its effects are not limited merely to increase of tone in the digestive organs and obstructions kept up by debility. The acorn coffee has also the property of being