TIE RUINED NEH-ENGLAND FAMILY.
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 New-England, I stopped for a day in one of her lovelisst villages, and while walking about it with venerable friend, who had lived there the best part of n century, noticed in the very centre of dense and thriving population sad and melancholy dwelling; gloomy and lonely in all its as- poets; one evidently summed as the abode of wretchedness beyond the reach of human aid, or even human sympathy. 1t was a large square house of two stories-a noble mansion in its day y;-in front of it stood two tall sycamores, legends of better times. The glass of its windows was nearly all broken, and its place was supplied with old rags and bits of hats; one whole easement was entirely gone; its gate, despoiled of hinges and latch, was partly buried in the ground; its doors were shackled and bro- ken; it was evident that some more ruth less hand than that of ever busy, but slow mouldcring time had been at work there not a tree save those ancient sycamores, stood near for fruit or shade; even the thick matted grass had woven its green bed through it's threshold. l was forcibly struck with its appearance, as it presented great contrast to the scene around me for here nature and art were shining forth in their finest combinations. | asked my friend why such a wre:ched hahitation should remain standing in the midst of so beautiful village. Ho replied, it would doubtless soon be taken down; but until within few weeks past it has been inhab- ited by the wreck of a family, once noble indeed, but for years sunk in the lowest degradation. Seventy years ago. added he, that house was the abode of wealth, honor, virtue, and piety. It has never changed its occupants. Twelve human beings have been born and reared all came from their Makers hands with the rudimen,s of perfect men; not faculty or organ that was not fully developed the light of reason shone forth in all with un- common beauty and brightness; but not one of them reached luis meridian, ere blight came upon him. You see in that house their history. o could the timbers cry out and the rafters answer, what years of untold woes would they howl forth" My curiosity was at once awakened, and begged my friend to give me minute ac- count of family which had experienced such sad reverses, and tell me what had oc- casioned this awful dcsolation. The fol- lowing was the melancholy history, as it fell from his lips and as it is no tale of fic- ton, as it proceeded from a neighbor who has witnessed the whole, and as l stood by the dilapidated habi,ation from which the last member ofihe family had just been re- moved to the grave, I thought the whole would form an excellent article for your journal.

 In the year 1774,' said my venerable friend, w. Ill., or, as shall here say, Walter Hone, 'was the weathiest man amongst US; his hocks and herds roamcd over the richest pastures, his fine crops of grain waved over the fairest fields, and his almost boundless woodlands covered the distant heights. He was the friend of man. He sought out the afflicted, and soothed the sorrows of fthc widow and the fatherless.- For his numerous virtues he was honored and beloved. He had troops of friends, and many were the convivial hours and so- cial joys that sparkled beneath his generous roof; his wife shared with him in the love and friendship of all who knew .hem.- They had three sons of unusual promise, wlio reached their ma jority at the breaking out of the revolution. George, the eldest, had a commission, and entered the army i; the other two remained at home ono mar ried. Walter and his wife descended to their graves in the mild radiance of u we'll spent life, and many were their n'ourners. They bcqueathed to each of their sons a rich inheritance. They hoped much for their offspring, but dark cloud had begun I nAO AsEaNn before old Walters death. Both the sons were idle, dissipated, selfish, ungovernable often the whole habitation was disturbed by the raging storms of passion. The mild rebuke of Walter and his wife met with no returns but insult and contempt. These parents would frequently yield every thing. and retire by themselves, hoping that by and-by their sons would be the props of their old age and ornamen nts to their country. No suspicion rose in thoir hearts that tho root of the evil lay in the hogsheads of St. Croix rum, often rolled into the cellar for the Ia- borers to partakc of freely as they liked, and in the demijohns of good old Cogniac brandy, daily produced and pressed upon friends, cousins, and neighbors. Walters eye sparkIed with joy as he saw the bowl go round and round, though his joy was ot- len turned into sorrow at the ungrateful, vile conduct of his sons. He wondered that they should have no more self control i; but the mother, pining away under their prodigaIity and loss of character. apolo- eized for them, and hoped for some change which would make them honorable in the world. Bot no change for the better dawn ed upon them in their declining years and