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About News & planters' gazette. (Washington, Wilkes County [sic], Ga.) 1840-1844 | View Entire Issue (March 16, 1843)
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.
