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VOL. I. PROSPECTUS O* TUB Rural Cabinet, Published in f far teuton, Georgia, Bt P. L. Robinson. ——Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious Court ? And this our life, exempt from public haunts, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every tiling. Shakespeare. Tub Rural Cabinet, as its title imports, will bo devoted more espe cially to the collection and diffusion of s ch matters and things as may tend to edify and entertain fbuso who “ Along the cool sequestered vale of life, Fuikue the noiseless tenor of their way.’ 1 Rut even the C ( it, who has not be come ton mawkish from a surfeit of politics or the thousand whiui whams a l t is heir to, ii he should hud noth ing to ** surprise or astonish,” per chance he may he refreshed with some of the old things which were wont to amuse, delight or solace hiru in days gone by. As “ variety is the very spice of life,” the Cabinet will con tain a miscellany calculated to join both profit and delight in oneij and present a condensed view of the im provements in Agriculture,, Com merce and the Arts, together with an epitome of the signs and tidings of the times, political—-and though in regard latter we pro <■ ss not to he neutrals, “ In all our strictures, placid we be, “ Ah Halcyons brooding on a summer sea.’’ The orginat department of the Ca jt!inet will be'enriched with the con- H fbuiions of s vhvh! literary gentle fuen who contributed to the late Co lumbian Centinel , and others who have given assurances of <lieir friendly countenance and support. The Rural Cabinet will be pub lished, weekly, on a medium sheet, of good quality, in the folio form, so ns to make a neat volume at the end of each year. The papers of sub srfibers in the county will lie forward ed by such conveyance as they may direct, or remain in the office until called for* The papers of*)>fc|tanf subscribers will be mail, without delay, (as there aiT twelve mails which arrive and depart fro a this place every week,) and eve ry attention will be paid to render their transmission speedy and regu lar. Although the Cabinet will be issued on a sheet smaller than the pa pers published in our cities, yet when the crpwd of advertisements they contain, together with the low price of the Cabinet , are taken into view, if will be cheaper than any now printed in the state. The annual subscription will be three dollars, which may be dis rharg and by two dollars and fifty cents it paid on the receipt of the first num ber. No su*\s rip Mon taken for less than twelve months. Select Tales. THE CHOICE. November had just set in, with its cloudy, windy days, and long even ings. (Charles Howard began to be oppressed with h feeling which the Fc* nrh call ennui, the English heavi ness and to which the Americans give tb'* app llation of low spirits. I con ceive they all mean the same thing,* ami, if 1 mistake not, the feeling, thus variously designated, originates, in ntoßt*cases, from idleness; for I never heard of a person who was constantly and usefully employed, being troubled With it for any length of time.— Rural Cabinet. t-tries ii iw<*t and nan never experienc ed the sensation in such full perfec tion, as at the time now alluded . h>. He was independent in his cir cumstances, and consequently at full liberty to amuse himself as he thought proper, and it is prob able that the certainty of this pre vented hiseujoying that freedom from restraint, which is doubly sweet when purchased by previous application. He Ii ad spent the spring and summer at different pla< es of public resort; had visited the Fails of Niagara, and joined a fashionable party to Sarato ga Springs, and returned to his na tive city, tired of being amused. At the latter place he had been struck with the beauty of a young lady who figured hs a b**lle among the gay visitants, and had come very near losing his heart. Ue had seri ously thought qf resigning his liberty till he disi oveVed that the young lady made rather too free use of hers, by coquetting, and mischievously en couraging the hopes of at least a doz en admirers—amusing herself and her companions by laughing at each in Lis turn. Charles Howard had no ambition of being admitted to swell the train of a heartless coquette, and he left tire pretty irifler to amuse her self with those who were more obse quious, and less in earnest than him self: and now, not being entirely re covered, from a feeling resembling disappointment, and not knowing ex actly what to do with himself, he hap pened to reccoilect that it would be both proper and agreeable to pay a visit to an uncle of his who resides in one of the. sister states, and whom he had never seen since he was a boy. No sooner had this idea taken posses sion of his mind, than he hastened to make, the necessary arrangements, and amused himself in the interval be tween forming the resolution and put ting it into execution, by conjecturing what sort of family he was likely to become acquainted with; he knew his uncle was not very rich, and his heart, which was naturally benevo lent, found pleasure in the idea that he might perhaps be of Service to him and to his family, none of the mem bers of which he had ever seen, hav ing, immediately after his studies, lefi America for France, for the benefit of his health, which had appeared to he declining. In that country he had remained for two years previous to the spring and Summer before allu ded to. On entering the town where his un cle resided, after a journey of more than three hundred miles, Charles Howard felt some impatience to see the relatives to whom lie had so long been a stranger. He was making the necessary inquiries totheir residence, when his attention was arrested by the voice of a child, crying vocifer ously, He stopped to inquire the cause, of his Sorrow, when he perreiv ed that the boy, who was about eight years old, was accompanied by a beautiful girl, who was trying in vain : to pacify him. The figure of this young person, who appeared to be a bout eighteen, was strikingly lovely; her fine eyes were suffused with tears, i as, w ith a mixture of shame and ten- j derness, she bent over the boy, whose loud cries had attracted the notice of several passengers. Howard drew close to the interesting group, and heard the young lady address the child in the sweetest voice in the world. ‘Never mind, my dear Charley,’ j she said, softly, ‘you could not help it; your mamma will never blame you for an accident—and we will repaii it as well as we can.’ Uarrenton, July 5, 1828. •i t* it yoi, Isabel, * said her young companion, *1 don’tcare if every body hears me!—l must cry—l can’t help iff—what will my poor father do?— and mother will look so sorry, if she don’t speak , Isabel—l stop cry ing!’ The young lady had drawn the boy by degrees towards a ihop, which she entered. Charles Howard followed; he perceived that it vas a milliner s shop, and that she was disposing of some line work. Thu boy remained on the door steps, anil tried to refrain from sobbing, llowurd accosted him, by asking his name; ‘Charles Howard.’ said the child ‘Why, my fine boy,’said Howard, ‘that is my name also; but I do not remember that I ever cried so loudly in the street.’ ‘lt’s papa’s name, too,’ answered the boy; ‘and he cried when the men carried my brother Harry u> o.r bury ing ground—and when we had to go away from our nice, big house, and our piety garden. And when moth er was si k, arid the naughty people tookefrery thing from tier, p.pa cried then, yet he is* man—and I wouldn’t cry fdr iiyself. 9 ‘ And (vhat then do you cry for, mj good boy?’ inquired his deeply-iuter tested auditor. •Why,’slid the child, *1 have lost all the moiry my mother gave me to buy nice thugs for my poor papa,* he is sick, am Isabel must work a long time ht fori she can get any more— and mol her will look sorry when we go home wlhout the things—and Wil liam and hinny will cry—and i must cry, for iti my own fault!—l stopped to look at a. pretty picture, and drop ped my inaney, and we could not find it.’ Howard comforted the boy with kind words: the appearance of the child did not agree with the poverty which his simple language repressed, and he was at a loss to reconcile such apparent contradictions—he ottered money to the child, whose counte nance at first brightened as he held out his hand to take it, but, drawing it back, he said, ‘No, sir, I must not take it-—my mother m*uld not like it—but I’ll ask Isabel—there she comes.’ He hastened to make the inquiry, and, as lif did so, II tward felt irre sistibly impelled to address the beau tiful girl,hut was restrained by a f**ar of offending. She, however, spoke first, •I thank yon, sir,’ she said, ‘for your kindness to my little companion: lie laments, with childish sorrow, a loss which appears to him of magni tudr; but he is done crying now, and wiil be more of a man ’ She sp .ke with visible effort, and ! Howard then reccollected the name of the boy, which had just before struck him. He informed the young lady that a similarity of names had led him to converse with his new acquain tance, and that lie had an uncle of the same name residing in that town, of whom he was in search. The younglady coloured deeply, as she said— ‘lf your relation, sir, is Mr. Charles Howard, formerly a mer chant in this town, I can direct you to his residence, which is two miles from hence; the family have removed from their former habitation. This little boy may probably be a relation of yours, since he is the son of the Mr.! Howard I spe*k of. If you will call ; in about two hours, we shall have an nounced your arrival,’ Her words struck on the heart of Charles Howard. It was then his uncle’s child who had so artlessly re- ; Uteil the iiiistoriunes ot his f.unily his father’s brother who was ill, and 1 *ti a miction! Who thm wan beau tiful Isabel, who was evidently close ly cennected wiih the family, yet not one of its immediate branches? He perceived that his young companions preferred proceeding homeward hy themselves; and having assured Isabel that he would see big uncle in less than two hours, lie left them, deeply affected with this singular imeiicg with so near a relative, ami ponder ing on the best means of retrieving the affairs of his uncle, which he feared were in a deplorable state. At the time app tinted, he reached the residence to which lie had been directed. Little Charles met him at <he door; be understood the kind gen tleman was his cousin, whom he had never before seen, and his little heart bounded to meet him. Howard found tils uncle 111, as ue exp* m o—amt heard from him a tale of sorrow and misfortune, lie was introduced <o his aunt, a still lovely woman, wli -so countenance was a sure passport to every heart- His two other cousins, William and Fanny, were one about fourteen, the other twelve years of ago. Isabel was an m plian, whom Mrs. Howard had adopted iti their more prosperous days Mr. Howard’s story was brief: 110 had been engaged in mercantile bu siness; his eldest son, Henry, was, when old enough, admitted a partner; this son had been the pride of his heart, but a fatal propensity to gam ing, which hail bteeu long secretly in i dulged, had led to their ruin; Adth and to this, smno failures in speculation had completed the overthrow of theii* credit- The son, stung iy r< morse at witnessing the ruin of his father’s affairs, and the silent anguish of lug mother, gave himself up to despair; big health fell a victim to his anguish of mind, ami a brain-fever carried him •If at the age of twenty three. IL.lh parents of the unhappy young man had been prostrated on the bed of sickness in consequence of tlirir fliir tion. Mr. Howard had resign'd all to his creditors, and now, disabled by illness and grief from doing any bu siness, be could only mourn over the wreck of his family. Isabella, their adopted daughter, had indeed been a child to them; she had worked for them, watched by them, and consoled them under all Iheir afflictions. ‘And why, my dear uncle,’ ex elaitned Charles, when this sad tala Was ended, *why was 1 forgotten in this season of calamity? You knew I had the power to assist you in your distress, and could you doubt my will? 9 ‘We had seen little of each other,* answered the unhappy man; •! knew not that you had returned to Ameri ca, and my calamities came upmrpe so suddenly, and in so overwhelming a manner, that I had little time for > thought; the death of my poor sou nearly unsettled our reason.’ ‘But your troubles are now 7 over, f trust,’ said his generous nephew; -I am rich, and my father’s brother shall never pine in distress, or his children know sorrow, while I have the pow er of relieving it.’ Charles kept his word. He had now something to do: time no longer hung heavy on his hands; he re-estab lished his uncle in business—-provid ed handsomely for his young cousins —and, to prevent a return of hw spirits, he prevailed on the beautiful Isabel to become his w ife. ‘For,’said he, *ghe who has been so true a friend, cannot fail of being a good wife* were she even no* half so beautiful (ti*heis.* From this time Charles Howard No. 6.