land. The shape of this tract was somewhat in the form of a triangle, with the apex at the southern boundary, near the verge of which ran a stream of water. Beyond this stream was a narrow strip of ground, some thirty feet wide, bounded by the fence enclosing the land belonging to another owner; (sic) it length was not more than two hundred feet. It was along this strip of ground that Mr. Bolton had observed the wagon of Mr. Halpin pass. The gate opening upon his premises was at one end, and now, for the first time, he discovered that there was a gate at the other end, opening from his farm to that of Mr. Halpin, while the ground was cut up with numerous wheel-tracks. "Upon my word, this is all very fine!" said Mr. Bolton. "The right of way across my farm! we'll see about that! Ben, do you get four good rails and put them firmly into the gate-posts on Mr. Halpin's side. Throw the gate over into his field." Ben looked confounded at this order. "Do you understand me?" said Mr. Bolton. "Yes, sir; but"-- "But what?" "There's no other way for Mr. Halpin's folks to get to the public road." "That's none of my business; they've no right to make a public highway of these premises. You heard what I said?" "Yes, sir." "Then let it be done." "Obey orders, if you break owners," muttered Ben, as Mr. Bolton turned and marched away with long and hasty strides. "But if there isn't a nice tea-party somewhere about these diggins before to-morrow morning, my name isn't Ben Johnson." Before reaching his house, Mr. Bolton's excitement had cooled a trifle, and it came into his mind that _possibly_ he might have acted a _little_ hastily; but the order had been given to cut off the right of way, and he was not the man to "make back-tracks" in any thing. "Do you see that, Edward?" said Mrs. Bolton, as her husband entered the house, pointing to a table on which stood a pitcher of sweet cream and two pounds of fresh butter. "Mrs. Halpin sent these over, with her compliments, this morning; isn't it kind in her?"