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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
B. . DOTTING, Editor.
*
No. 29.— NEW SERIES.]
NEWS & PLANTERS'GAZETTE.
TEK M S :
Published weekly at Three Dollars per annum
if paid at. the time of subscribing; or Three
Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid till the expi
ration of six months.
No paper to be discontinued, unless at the
option of the Editor, without the settlement of
all arrearages.
ET Letters, on business, must br post paid, to
insure attention. No communication shall be
published, unless we are made acquainted with
the name of the author.
TO ADVERTISERS.
Adugrlisements, not exceeding one square, first
insertion, Seventy-Jive Cents; and for each sub
sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will
be made of twenty-five per cent, to those who
advertise by the year. Advertisements not
limited when handed in, will be inserted till for
bid, and charged accordingly.
.
Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad
ministrators and Guardians, are required by law,
to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days
previous to the day of sale,
j The sales of Personal Property must be adver
tised in like manner, forty days.
: Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
must be published forty days.
) Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell I.and'or Ne
groes, must be published for four months—
notice that application will be made for Letters
of Administration, must be published thirty days;
and Letters of Dismission, six months.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE, )
Washington, Ga., January, 1843. $
AUGUSTA MAIL.
ARRIVES.
Mohday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 5, A. M.
CLOSES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 12, M.
MILLEDGEVILLE MAIL.
ARRIVES.
Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. M.
CLOSES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M.
„ CAROLINA MAIL.
ARRIVES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 11, A. M.
CLOSES.
Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 6, A. M.
LEXINGTON MAIL.
ARRIVES.
Tuesday and Saturday, at 2, P. M.
CLOSES.
Monday and Friday, at 9, A. M.
ELBERTON MAIL.
ARRIVES. CLOSES.
Thursday, at 8, P. M. [ Thursday, at 8, P. M.
LINCOLNTON MAIL.
ARRIVES. CLOSES.
Friday, at 12, M. ! Friday, at 12, M.
law rjTseir’"”
tAsraa scaMTisiaL
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
ID’ Office in Mr. Barnett’s new building, North
west corner of the Public Square.
Washington, Wilkes county, Ga., )
December 22, 1812. £ 17
COTTING & BUTLER,
ATTOUNIES,
HYVE taken an OFFICE in the rear of
Willis & Hester’s Store.
January, 1843. 28
To Renta
TIIE STABLE situated in the rear of the
Printing-Office. Apply to
M. J. KAPPEL
February 9,1843. 24
McGRANAGHAN & DONNELLY,
H/Mim
to the tenement next to the
■Vo re formerly occupied by H. S. Belcher,
ou the West side of the Public Square, where
they Will be at all times happy to see their
friends and customers.
March 2, 1843. 3t 27
For Slate,
A GOOD supply of CANDLES, of excel
lent quality. If on trial, they are not found
to suit the purchaser, they may be returned.
R. 11. VICKERS.
s March 2, 1843. 27
Saddle Found,
A SADDLE w r as taken oft’ a Sorrei Horse,
found ioose in the Streets during Court, and
deposited in my Stable. The owner can have
the same by paying for this advertisement, and
applying to me. R. 11. VICKERS.
March 2,1843. 27
Notice to Debtors and Creditors.
k LL persons indebted to the Estate of Thom
as J. Ellington, late of Wilkes county, de
ceased, are requested to make immediate pay
ment, and those having demands, will please
present the same, duly attested, for payment.
WILLIAM B. ELLINGTON, ExV.
February 9,1843. 6t 24
ALL persons indebted to the Estate of Mary
Hughes, deceased, late of Wilkes county,
are hereby notified to make immediate payment
to the undersigned, and those having demands a
gainst the same will present them in terms of the
law. BARNARD H. HUGHES, Adm’r.
January 5,1843. 6t 19
JVotice.
ALL persons having demands against the Es
tate of Larkin Clark, late of Elbert county,
deceased, will present them as the law requires;
aad those indebted to said estate will please make
immediate payment to
ROBERT McMILLAN, Executor.
EjJgjJjr. January 4,1843. 20
f - /
The Subscriber,
TtfISHING to close business, offers at Redu
* * ced Prices, his present STOCK, consist
ing in part, of the following :
CF] Ladies’ Kid and Cah walking
1 | Shoes, just received.
Misses Calf and Seal do. do.
IKb Children’s Shoes,of various kinds
Boy’s Call and Kip, sewed and veg'tl. Shoes,
Men’s Shoes, sewed and peg’d. a variety,
Women’s sewed and peg’;!. Kips,
Women’s fine Leather Bootees,
Gentlemen’s fine Call Boot :.
Coarse Brogans, men’s and hi ye, best quality,
Do. do. extra 3,/.e,
Men’s Leather Slippers,
Men’s Calf and Seal Pumps.
ALSO,
Ladies’ Kid Buskin Ties, and a case of Gentle
rsen’s sewed Shoes, soon to arrive.
Also, Factory Oznaburgs, at 9 cents per yard,
and woolen Linseys, nearly a yard wide, at 28 lo
30 cents, which article was sent invoiced at 45
cents, and cannot be bought at the Factory now
at much less than 40 cts. by the quantity.
If? Persons wishing any of the above articles,
will do well to call at the SHOE STORE of
A. L. LEWIS.
N B.—Persons indebted on account will please
call and settle at the earliest possible date.
January 12, 1843. A. L. L.
Cabinet •Raking.
FIIHE Subscriber will continue the CABI-
A NET BUSINESS at the old stand for
merly occupied by Mr. Joseph Moseley, where
he will despatch all kinds of work in his line at
prices corresponding with the hard times.
Persons wishing to purchase any articles in
his line will do well to call before buying else
where.
He would also inform the public that he is
prepared to execute TURNING, which he will
do low and on terms to suit his customers. Do
not be baakwartl in coming forward.
JOSEPH GARDNER,
February 23,1843. 4t 26
Tailoring Establishment
Removed over 11. S. Belcher’s Store.
JIMIE Subscriber begs leave to inform the pub
-*■ lie and his former customers, that in conse
quence of the present Hard Times, he will make
up Work in a Superior Style of Fashion, at a
reduced price for Cash’. Cotton, Ilog-meat,
Lard, Meal, Flour, or Irish Potatoes. Persons
wishing to palronize a TAILOR that is willing
to comply with the Times, can do so by applying
to the Subscriber.
WILLIAM F. SOIIAN.
October 13, 1842. 7
Georgia, .Elbert county.
Superior Court, September Term, 1842.
William Pulliam, Admin-’
islrator of
Jacob Higginbotham, De
ceased,
vs. - IN EQUITY.
James Higginbotham,
Jacob Higginbotham,
John Higginbotham,
Willi am Higginbotham, I
Francis Higginbotham,
Riley Higginbotham,
Joseph Higginbotham,
Benjamin Higginbotham,
Elizabeth Higgmbdt ham,
William Maxwell and
Jane his vvj ! 'e, and
Stephen Rowrey and
Hannah his wife. J
Evidence having been submitted to the
Court that three of the Defendants, to-wit: Jo- 1
sepli Higginbotham, James Higginbotham and ■
Jacob Higginbotham, had renounced all further i
claims upon the estate of their deceased father, ,
in consideration of advancements made to them
by their father in his life-time. It is Ordered by
the Court, that the said three Distributees fur
nish testimony on or beiore the first day ov the !
next Term of this Court, to rebut said proof, at
which time a final distribution of the Assets will
be made in terms of the Interlocutory Decree i
already rendered. It. is Ordered, that a copy of j
tins Rule be published monthly, until the next
Court.
True copy from the Minutes of said Court, this 1
26 .li day of September, 1842.
- IRA CHRISTIAN, Cierk. 1
October 6. m6m 6 1
Lincoln Superior Cou.-t,
October Term, 1842.
Rebecca Fleetwood, J Libel for Divorce,
vs. > In Lincoln Sup’r. Court,
John Fleetwood. } returnable April Term.
TT appearing to the Court, that the detendant
hi the above stated Libel for Divorce, has not
been served, and has removed out of the county
of Lincoln, and to parts unknown. It is there
foro Ordered, that said defendant do appear at the
next Term of this Court and answer to said Li
bel, or in default thereof that the Court will pro
ceed as to justice shall appertain. It is further
Ordered, that a copy of this Rule be served upon
the defendant by publishing the same once a
month for four months in the Washington News
and Planters’ Gazette.
True extract from the Minutes,
HENRY MURRAY, Clerk.
December 15,1842. m4m 16
GEORGIA : J Whereas, John L. Wynn
Wilkes County, j applies to me for Letters of
Administration on the Real Estate of Argyle
Norman, deceased.
This is, therefore, to cite, summon, and
admonish, all and singular, the kindred and
creditors of said deceased, to be and appearat my
office within the time prescribed by law, to show
cause, (if any they have,) why said letters should
not be granted.
Given under my hand at office, this 6th of
March, 1843.
JOHN H. DYSON, C. C. O.
March 9. It 28
EVERY VARIETY
OF
mm wwmmim*
EXECUTED AT THIS
© [F IF 0 © IE a
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) MARCH 16, 1843.
I From the Graham's Magazine, For March.
THE END OF THE WORLD.
A Vision.
BY JAMES K. PAULDING.
Happening the other day, to meet with
an account ofa mighty gatfiering of the dis
ciples of a certain great prophet, who, I be
lieve has, in spite ,of the proverb, rather
more honor in his own country than any
other, I fell upon a train of reflections on
the probability of this world coming to an
end the first of April next, as predicted by
that venerable seer. That it will come to
an end, some time or other, is certain, for
nothing created can last forever ; and that
this event may happen to-morrow, is, for
aught we know, just as likely as that it will
take place a hundred or a thousand years
lienee. The precise hour is, however, wise
ly, hidden from all but the eyes of our in
spired prophet, and the first of April is quite
j as probable as any other, although, for the
credit of the prediction, I could wish it
had been fixed for some other day than that
so specially consecrated to making fools.
It appeared to me, however, on due con
sideration, that there wore many startling
indications that this world of ours was pret
ty well worn threadbare, and that it was
high time to lay it aside, or get lid of it al
together, by a summary process, like the
Bankrupt Law. Nor am I alone, among
very discreet reflecting persons, in this o
pinion. I was lately conversing with an
old gentleman of great experience and sa
gacity, who has predicted several hard
winters, and who assured mo he did not see
how it was possible for this world to last
much longer. “In the first place,” said he,
“it lias grown a great deal too wise to be
honest, and common sense, like a specie
currency, becomes the most uncommon of
all commodities. Now I maintain that,
without the ballast of common sense, the
world must inevitably turn upside down, or
at least, fall on its beam-ends, and all the
passengers tumble overboard. In the se
cond place, it is perfectly apparent that the
balance wheel which regulates the ma
chine, and keep all its functions in equili
brium, is almost worn out, if not entirely
destroyed. There is now no medium in
anything The love of money has become
a raging passion, a mania equally destruc
tive to morals and happiness. So with e
very pursuit and passion of our nature.—
Everyman is ‘like a beggar on horseback,’
and the old proverb will tell where he rides.
All spur away, until they break down,
ride over a precipice, or tumble into the
mire. If a man, as every man does nowa
days, pines for riches, instead of seeking
them in the good old-fashioned way of in
dustry, prudence and economy, he plunges
heels over head in mad, extravagant and
visionary schemes, that lead inevitably, not
only to his own ruin, but that of others, and
.in all probability,in the end, leave him as
destitute of character as of fortune. Or if
he is smitten with a desire to benefit his fel
low-citizens, he carries his philanthropy in
,tc th camp of the enemy, that is, to the op.
pi.. ie extreme of vice. His sympathies for
one class of human suffering entirely shut
his eyes aad his heart to the claims and
rights of others, and he would sacrifice the
world toon atom. Ilis pity for the guilty
degenerates into the encouragement of
crime, and instead of an avenger, he be
comes an accomplice No man, it would
seem, in this most enlightened of all ages,
appear to be aware of what is irrefragably
true, than an honest abhorrence of guilt is
one of the most powerful preservatives of
human virtue ; and that one of the most ef
fectual modes of engendering- vice in our
own hearts, is to accustom ourselves to view
it merely as an object of pity and forgive
ness. It seems to be a growing opinion,
that the punishment of crime is an usurpa
tion of society, a despotic exercise of pow
er over individuals, and, in short, ‘a relic
of the dark ages.”
My excellent old friend is a great talker,
when he gets on a favorite subject ; though
he rails by the hour at members of Con
gress for their long speeches ; and proceed
ed, after stopping to breath, as follows:
“There are other pregnant indications of
this world being on its last legs, in the fash
ionable cant” —so my friend called it, most
irreverently—“of ascribing almost all the
great conservative principles of the social
state to‘the dark ages.’ The laws, indis
pensable to the security of property, the
restraint of imprudence and extravagance,
the safety of persons, and the punishment of
their transgressors —those laws, in short,
that constitute the great pillars of society,
and without which barbarity and violence
would again overrun the world, are for
sooth, traced by the advocates of‘progress’
to those very dark ages, whose ignorance
and barbarism they contributed more than
all other causes to dissipate and destroy.—
An honest man who resorts to those laws
which are founded in the first principles of
justice, for the recovery of that which is ne
cessary to his comfort, perhaps his very
existence, or for the purpose of punishing
some profligate spendthrift for defrauding
him, is now denounced by philanthopie le
gislators, and mawkish moralists, as a deal
er in human flesh, a Shylock demanding
his pound of flesh, and whetting his knife
for performing the sacrifice. The murder
er—the cool, premeditated murderer—is
delicately denominated ‘an unfortunate
man,’ lest we should wound his fine feel
ings. Our sympathies are invoked when
he is called upon to pay the penalty of his
crime, while the poor victims, living and
dead, are left, the one without pity, and the
other without reliefi
“Not o/ily this,” continued the worthy
old gentleman, who gradually waxed
warmer and warmer as he proceeded—‘not
only this, hut as if to give the last most un
equivocal evidence of dotage, we have be
come puffed up with the idea of'this being
the most enlightened of all the ages of the
world, for no other reason, that I can per
ceive, than that vve are become very great
mechanics, arid have, in consequence of
tlie wonderful perfection to which machin
ery lias been brought, depreciated the value
of human labor, until it has become insuffi
cient for human sport, and beggared our
selves and our posterity, in making canals
for frogs to spawn in, and rail roads from
interminable forests to flourishing towns
that never had existence. It is perfectly
evident to me, that matters are speedily
coming lo a crisis, and that a world, in
which there is no other pursuit but money,
where all sympathy is monopolized by
guilt, and where common sense and com
mon honesty are considered as relics of the
dark ages, cannot last much longer, unless,’
added he, with a peculiar expression of his
eye, “unless Congress, takes it hand, and
brings about a radical reform, by speechifi
calion. The truth is it owes so much more
than it can pay, that the sooner it winds up
its concerns the better.”
Saying this, my worthy and excellent
friend, after predicting a hard winter, left
me to cogitate alone in tnv old arm chair,
very much inclined to a nap. as I generally
am after listening to a long harangue. It
was in a quiet back room, where I could
see nothing blit the smoke of mv opposite
neighbor’s chimney ; nothing disturbed me
but a fly, which, notwithstanding the world
was wide enough for us both, I should have
utterly exterminated, if I could ; and I con
tinued to ponder over the subject, till, by
degrees, sleep overpowed me, and the fol
lowing vision passed over my bewildered
brain.
Methought the eve of the first of April
Had come, and with it every indication that
the prediction of the prophet was about to
be fulfilled. The waters of the rivers,
brooks and springs became gradually war
mer and warmer, until some of them began
to boil ; hot currents of air issued from the
fissures of the earth, whose surface became
heated so that the bare-footed urchins ra
ther danced than walked upon it; a thick
dun-colored vapor, by degrees, involved the
world from the horizon to the skies, and
there prevailed a dead, oppressive calm,
without a single stirring breath of air.—
The earth became, as it were, one vast
heated oven. The air was dry and parch
ing ; the turkeys lay sprawling on jheir
breasts, with expanded wings ; the dogs
strolled wistfully around, seeking some
cool retreat, panting and lolling out their
tongues ; the little birds hid themselves in
the recesses of the woods, and ceased to
sing; the leaves of the trees and flowers wil
ted and shrivelled up under the excessive
heat of the burning sun—all the world
ceased to revolve, either from a suspension
of the laws of nature, or for fear of dissol
ving in a profuse perspiration.
Ollier fearful auguries proclaimed that
the hour had come. The sun was like a
red ball of living fire ; the whole firmament
rocked and trembled, as if panting with the
throes of suffocation ; ever and anon long
flashes of zig-zag lightning shot, athwart
the heavens in dead silence, for no thunder
followed ; and all nature, rational and ir
rational, animate and inanimate, seemed
awaiting in death-like silence the hour of
their final dissolution, as predicted by the
prophet.
Methought I wandered about in that un
happy and distracted state of mind whicli
generally ensues when we are haunted by
some dim, half visible spectre of undefined
misery, whose presence we feel, but whose
persecutions we cannot avoid. It seemed
that I strolled to the river side in the hope
of inhaling the cool, refreshing breezes from
its bosom, hut it sent forth nothing but scal
ding vapor, like that from a steam-engine.
The fishes lay sprawling and panting, and
dying on its surface ; and a hungry hawk,
that had plunged down for his prey, being
exhausted by the consuming heat, lay flut
tering helplessly on the waters. From the
mountains of the opposite shore, columns of
blood-red smoke and flames of sulphurous
fire issued with an angry roaring vehemen
cy; and in some of the deep fissures of the
rocks, methought I could see the raging
fires, as through the bars of a furnace.—
Then came rolling out the bowels of the
eartli torrent ofliquid flames ; then came on
the dread struggle of the rebel elements, re
leased from the guiding hand of their great
Master. The dissolving earth rushed into
the waters; a noise, like the hissing of mil
lions of serpents, succeeded, and when I
looked again the river was dry.
I fled from the appalling spectacle, and
sought the city, where all was dismay and
confusion. Some were shrieking and tear
ing their hair, in guilty apprehension of
the horrors of death, and the sufferings of
the world to come. Others sat in mute
despair, awaiting in dumb insensibility the
fate of all the rest of their race ; while oth
ers, impelled by the instinct of self-preser
vation, and forgetful ofthe inevitable doom
that awaited them, were devising various
expedients for escaping, and securing their
most valuable articles about their persons.
A little love sick maiden had hung the pic
ture of her lover about her snowy neck ; an
anxious mother sat weeping and wringing
her hands by the side of a cradle, where
lay a little laughing cherub playing with a
kitten ; while another was rushing madly
about with a child in her arms, which she
had squeezed to death in her convulsive
writhings. Thousands of scenes like these
occurred all around, hut I delight not to
dwell on horrors, and will proceed to state
what I saw of the exhibitions of the various
modes of grief, disappointment and despair
which served to convince me that the rul
ing passion will struggle in the last agonies
ofexistence, and triumph at the moment of
the dissolution of nature herself.
Iti the coursr of my wanderings, me
thought I encountered the celebrated Fire-
King, who was sitting at home, quietly smo
king his cigar, and calculating that being
the destined survivor of all his race, he
would succeed to an immense landed estate,
and become lord proprietor of the whole
earth. Having agreed upon the terms, he
furnished me with an antidote agninst the
heatDf the most raging anthracite furnace,
and being rlow assured of safety, I made
my observations with more coolness and
precision. Being of rather a prying dispo
sitiou, I conceived that as every thing was
in a state of utter confusion, the doors and
windows all open, and no police officers on
duty, there was no occasion to stand upon
ceremony.
1 accordingly made my way into the
most private recesses of various habita
tions, where I saw many things which I
would not disclose, were it not that all this
is nothing hut a dream. Entering a hand
some house, rather splendidly furnished, I
saw an old man of upwards of fourscore,
who was bitterly complaining of being thus
suddenly cut off, without time to make his
will, and repent of his sins ; while an el
derly woman, whom I took to be one of
Job’s comforters, was upbraiding him for
not taking her advice, and attending to these
matters long ago. In another miserable
house, without furniture, and destitute of
every comfort oflife, I discovered a shri
velled, cadaverous spectre, hugging a hag
of gold, and lamenting the hardship of being
called away, just a day before the interest
became payable on his hank stocks. 1 met
in another place a speculator, with the per
spiration rolling down his face in torrents,
who was calculating the immense profits lie
might have made if he Lad only foreseen
this sudden catastrophe. A little farther
on, I saw a glutton devouring a pair ofcan
vass backs, and heard him at intervals
mumbling to himself—“ They shan’t cheat
me of my dinner.” The next person I par
ticularly noticed, was a staunch believer in
“progress,” who was terribly out of humor
that the world should be destroyed just as
it was on the high road to perfectibility.—
He had an essay in his hand, which lie was
rolling to enclose in a bottle, hermetically
sealed, in the hope that it might float down
to posterity, and make him immortal, forget
ting, as I supposed, that the word was now
about to perish by fire, and not by water.—
In the course of my farther peregrinations,
I fell in with a father, very busy in making
a will, dividing his property among his chil
dren ; and another disinheriting his son for
marrying against his wishes. A usurer was
lamenting that he was not aware of what
was coming, as lie would certainly have
borrowed a good round sum, and thus es
caped paying the interest. A worth deal
er, in political haberdashery, who had been
seeking office, I believe, ever since the flood,
was exclaiming against fate for easting him
of?’, now lie had actually received a prom
ise of succeeding a gentleman who was on
ly five years younger than himself, imme
diately on his death. This example, by
the way, brought to my recollection a cir
cumstance that actually happened in real
life, and within my own knowledge, where
an old man of upwards of three score and
ten actually hanged himself on the mar
riage of his daughter, to whose fortune he
looked forward to becoming heir, provided
she died without issue. It is somewhat sin
gular that people always calculate on out
living those by whose deaths they expect to
be benefited.
In the course of my peregrinations, I en
countered some ofthe disciplesof the proph
et, who, one might have supposed, would
have been prepared for the event they had
so long confidently anticipated. But it
seemed they were as much taken by sur
prise as their unbelieving neighbors, and
were running to and fro in great consterna
tion, or preparing in great haste for what
they had been expecting at leisure, accor
ding to the ways of the wise people of this
world, who see farther into futurity than
their neighbors. Entering the chamber of
a middle aged widow, a staunch follower
of the prophet, who had retreated some
where, I found an open letter, not quite fin
ished, which purported to be an answer to
a proposal of marriage from another disci
ple, and in which the prudent dame very
judiciously postponed her final decision un
til after the first of April.
I own I proceeded to other unwarranta
ble indulgencies of curiosity, only pardon
able in a person fast asleep, in the course
of which f made certain discoveries, which
now that I am awake, I scorn to disclose
to the world. All I will venture to say is,
that I saw enough to convince me that if the
widow really believed in the approaching
dissolution ofthe world, she had determin
ed to make the most ofit while it lasted.
It is impossible to say what other discove
ries I might have achieved if I had not
heard foosteps approaching ; and apprehen
ding it might be the lady herself, I retreated
with considerable precipitation, in doing
which, I encountered, and overthrew, a fat
cook maid, who was coming up in great
haste to apprize her mistress thatthe kitch
en was so hot she could not breath in it any
longer, and who, notwithstanding the solem-
HI. J. Printer.
nity of the occasion, gave me a most awful
! benediction.
The next house I entered, was that of a
| notorious usurer, who was never known to
|do a kindness to any human being. He
had accumulated millions by a rigid inflex
ible system of preying upon the wants of
his fellow creatures, and denying himself
the common necessaries of life, except on
rare occasions, when his vanity got the bet
ter of his avarice : and he would give some
great party or ostentatious feast, in order to
excite the envy of his neighbors, and get
puffed in the newspapers, always making
j himself amends for his prodigality by
j squeezing additional sums out of his unfor
tunate clients. I found him busily em
ployed in making his will, and talking to
himself by fits and starts, from which I ga
thered there was a great contest going on
between the ruling passion and the fear of
the future, which prompted him to make re
paration, as far as possible, for his past
transgressions. From what 1 CQtild gath
er, ho had come to a determination to restore
the principal of all the money he had
screwed from his debtors by his usurous
practices, but could not bring himself to
give back the interest on these exactions,
which he said would utterly ruin him. As
the heat became more intense, he seemed
gradually to relax ; but the moment it sub
sided a little, relapsed again. This hap
pened several times, until at length the old
man quieted his conscience by leaving his
whole estate for the purpose of erecting a
hospital for the reception of the families of
all those lie had reduced to beggary by his
frauds and inhumanity’, at the same time
saying to himself, “I shall go down to pos
terity as a great public benefactor.” As I
looked over his shoulder, [ however, oh
served that the bequest was conditional on
the fulfilment of the prophecy.
Leaving the house of this repentant sin
ner, I proceeded on my way without any de
finite object, and met a fellow in irons, who
had taken advantage of the confusion which
reigned everywhere around, to make his es
cape from prison. He had committed a
wanton and atrocious murder; and his ex
ecution was fixed for the next day. Ho
seemed so elate at his escape, that I could
not forbear reminding him that he had on
ly got out of the frying-pan into the fire.—
He briskly replied, “O, hut you forget I
have escaped the disgrace of hanging.”—
On my reminding him that the disgrace was
in the crime, not the punishment, he answer
ed, “I differ with you entirely in this mat
ter,” and proceeded on, rattling his chains
as if in triumph.
My next encounter was v- h a person
who had distinguished himself in several
controversies on questions which, admitting
of no demonstration either of facts or argu
ments, afford the finest scope for intermina
ble discussion. He had written more than
one dissertation to prove that the prophet
knew nothing about what he had predicted,
and gone nigh to convince his readers that
he was in the same predicament. I was
proceeding to converse with him on the un
expected catastrophe so rapidly approach
ing, when he impatiently interrupted me:
“Unexpected, indeed!” said he, “I have
been so busy’ in proving it to heal! humbug
that 1 am sorry to say that I am entirely
unprepared. But that is not the worst.—
The most provoking part oF the business is,
that Unsold blockhead should be right and
I wrong. My reputation is entirely ruined;
and I shall go down to posterity as a teach
er of false doctrines and a had rcasoner.”
‘ Don’t be uneasy on that score,” I replied,
“posterity will know nothing of the matter.”
Upon which he loft me in a great passion,
affirming that I had reflected on Itimselfand
his works, which, upon my honor, was not
my intention.
The philosopher had scarcely left me
when there approached an old man of ra
ther venerable appearance, who seemed an
exception to the rest of the world ; being
evidently elated at what filled all others
with horror and dismay. lie was rubbing
his hands in great glee, ever and anon ex
claiming, “1 told them so; I predicted all
this years ago, hut the blockheads wouldn’t
believe me. They have got it now, and
may laugh as much as they please.” Anx
ious to know the meaning of all this, I ven
tured to ask an explanation : “What!” said
he, “don’t you know I am the prophet who
foretold the destruction of the world by fire,
the first of April, 1843 ? The clergy preach
ed against mo in their pulpits ; the philos
ophers laughed ; and the would-be wise
ones hooted at me as a fool, or an imposter.
But they have got it now—they have got it
now—ha! ha!” and the worthy old prophet
went his way delighted at the fulfilment of
his prediction. He had not proceeded far,
however, when he came in sight of the bed
of the river, whicli was now one vast volca
no of consuming fires, and encountered such
a scorching blast from that quarter, that he
turned round and approached me again
with great precipitation. On enquiring
where he was going in such a iiurry, he
replied, “Going ? why to make preparation
for this awful catastrophe, which, to tell
you the truth, I have entirely neglected,
being altogether taken up with predicting
it. Bless my soul ! I had no idea it would
be so hot!” At that moment it seemed
that he took fire, and in a few minutes was
consumed to ashes, exclaiming to the last,
“Well, well! it matters not, t shall godovvn
to posterity as the last of the prophets !”
The last person I recollect meeting, was
the worthy old gentleman who railed a
gainst the world so copiously at the com
mencement of this vision. He was puffing
and blowing, aiid fanning himself with h-’s
[YOU ME XXVIII.
