Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOL. I. I'll ti CABINET Is published every Saturday , by P. L. RO BLVSOjW JVarrenton , Geo. at three dollars per annum , which may be discharged by two dollars and fifty cents if paid within sixty days of the time of subscribing. • Select Tales . JIZEM THE FORTUNATE. An Arabian Tale.— Some years past being at Bagdad, l entered a tlieriake or coffee house. The. Turks present were employed in drinking coffee, smoking, and ( hewing opium. Their phizes were as solemn as the bird A ft z who thought the owl too sporttol, ami shrank from the frolic of his eyes: by the beard of Mahammed! only think of the frolic* of an owl’s eye. 1 had hardly entered before one of the professed story tellers, so common in the East, beg *n exclaiming ‘who e* er heard the t ie of Az< in the fortunate* None answered. ‘Well,’said he, ‘is it your pleasure to Ir ar the tale of A A nod from all present gave assent: atid as it would only cost me my tune, and a few asp rs, 1 seated myself, and lie thus commenced the following story. •Azem was an inhabitant of Balso ra. Good fortune had attended him from infancy. His dwelling was se cond only to thai of the Sultans; his gardens vied wish those of Paradise; birds of all kinds, and of a thousand varied plumages, warbled forth their morning song to charm his ear; and Circassia’s fairest daughters warmed his heart, whilst he himself in form and beauty, was a Prince among P inces, the first of men among men. TANARUS crown all, lie had a generous heart, and his bounties were well known to all the needy followers of tbe Propaet. There is nothing perfect. Azem, ever fortunate, attributed his success es to prudence, and, when he relieved the unfortunate, in the f *lly of his heart he believed their sufferings the result of folly or of crime. This o pr ion, united with his prosperity, filled his heart with pride. One night, us ier a day of more than usual Success, wi ll a heart swelling with Vanity, he retired with his beautious Zee to the bowers of rest. His p >w eia were hardly lost in sleep, before the shrill cry of fire awoke him, and his a iiing eyes saw one grand blaz* surrounding hitn, and before mor ting, his lordly palace, whose domes the nigiit before, seernded to nestle in tbe clouds, presenting nothing but a black smoking ruin.—‘One misfortune’s ys the proverb, *is but the mother of an other:* and, as Azem mourned his dwelling, he heard that an earthquake had swallowed the city, in which most of his wealth was deposited; and this proud man began to tremble for the future. At this period he had determined on a pilgrimage to Mecca. This du ty the pious Azem would not neglect. Collecting a sufficiency for his ab sence, bis wives and children were left to tbe care of a good brother; and taking with him two slaves to whom he had been as kind as a parent, he bade adieu to all his heart In Id dear. Have you ever bade farewell, a long farewell, to all you love, by parting, made ten times lovelier—felt the ‘varm quit k breath of a wife’s affec tion tremble on your cheek, whilst your unconscious —sweet link that binds you more closely together --twines bis little bands in yours, as if clinging for protection? If you have evpi felt that heart rending, that si’ kening of the soul that such a mo ment gives, you can concieve the Rural Cabinet. parting of azcoi trom ms i • veil Zoe. The farewell trembled on his lips, and with a convulsive effort lie fled. Azem had joined a large caravan to pass the desert. Many days all went on well,—-On the twentieth, af ter leaving Balsora, the sun rose red as blood. As tbe day advanced the heat grew intense, the sky was bras sy over their heads, and the sands were like heated coals under their feet. About the hour of noon a faint flush of red, tinged the horizon. This awful harbinger of the wind of death struck all with horror. The Cap Aga, or leader, ordered all to prostrate ihemselves until the Simoon, or blast of Azz-tel, was past. The camels id then* mouths in the sand; for in stinct warns them of their danger. Fin* burning wind soon passed by. and ail stiff-red by its malignancy, and none more than Azem. Fron this time, day after day, the way grew more and more tedious. Many of the camels died, and from a fal from one of the over In.idt-d beast* C- p Aga was killed. All then we.- confusion. In the caravan a thou sand different opinions were given, and none steadily followed. Watei grew scarce, and famine threatened them. On the thirtieth day of then pilgrimage, a wild band of the desert appeared. In the moment of danger great minds ever f,,ke lead. Azem instinctively seized the command. His voice was heard giving orders and cheering all around. Forming into a square they waited the attack. The b vttle was bloody. The leader of the robber band, a savage Curd, signal ized Azem f-r bis prey. Withal most irresistible fury he strove to transfix him with his lance. Azem ! nimbly parried the blow, and with ! one deadly stroke Azem’s Yatagan | drank his heart’s blond, and the giant form of the Curd lay black and g u*y lon the sand. The children of the desert, seeing their leader fall, retir I ed. Night coming on, prudence sug ! gested a speedy and separate flight. One of Azem’s slaves had pass and j the great desart before, and with his master and fill vv slave boldly pushed ton for life, and af or ten days* intense sufl’ ring they arrived at a small town not far from Mecca. Azem’s toils brought on sickness, and he soon expected a summons from the angel Azrael, to join the houris of Paradise. It was different ly written in the b ink of fate. As he was laying speechless on his couch lie heard his si i ves io low yet earnest converse. ‘Com**, let us be going,* said Abdalah, be cannot live, death has set his seal on him and if we wait his decease the Cadee will help us in taking an inventory of what he leaves behind I hate to leave him, for he has been a good master; he cannot, no he cannot, survive:— ‘True, sadly true,* said the other stghirig, ‘he cannot recover, and if we administer on his effects just be fore, it will be as well as just after death. All, Abdallah we must even be going.’ So piously commending their good master to the care of Ma hammed, they gathered together all his effects and fled. Azem soon after this began to re cover and he found himself weak, de serted, and a burden on a poor wid ow whose dwelling was his residence. His ring, the only valuable left, lie gave her: and as soon as he was able to crawl she let him know her pover ty would not let her support him, and that another guest was expected to fill the room he then occupied. Thus thrown on the world, the once rich and happy Azem had to de pend on the alms of the compassion- Warrenton, August 9, 1828. ate for bread. Though humbled he did not despair. With great exer-j tion he gained Mecca, where he paid the devotion so much valued by the: Osmanice. From this time he had to j depend on charity for support. One day as he was soliciting alms,i from weakness he fell, and startled! the horse of a Cadee who was passing, ( whose excellency also found the! ground, A few lashes well applied,j with many a hearty curse, removed him out of the way. Soon after this as he was rubbing his aching shoul ders, mourning his hard lot, some thing shining caught his eye. He eagerly seized it: it turned out to bej i diamond of great value. As lie was examining it, he was arrested by some officers. The diamond belong d to the Cadee whose fall he had oc casioned. Being carried before him, ie wis accused of stealing it. Azem protested his innocence vehemently, <ut nothing answered; the Cadee saw lie very thief in his looks, ilis rags, io the eye of that ofli er, bespoke the knave. Poverty always looks suspi dons , and no guilt so conspicuous as that iu rags. The trial finished, A zem was condemned to lose his right band. In the bitterness of his soul cursed his day, and in his anathemas forgot not the un just judge. Being overheard, >ne s.tid curse von the Cadee?’ The Cadee on this, being a compassionate man, to give him a useful lesson in addition to his sen tence ordered his cans to be cropped, and his tongue to be slit.—‘No doubt,* said the Cadee, *my instruction will sink deep into bis soul.* At the place of execution, he suffer ed the whole of the sentence, io tin presence of a numerous and highly de lighted audience. After the multitude had dispersed, some humane Dervises took him un der their protection until he was heal ed. when to bog again was his lot. I< happened on a certian day, whilst he was in a crowd, that a robbery took place, and each suspicious person was seized, and none were more strongly suspected than the ragg‘*d Azem. The thief, who committed the robbery was a shrewd knave. Seeing what would come to pass, be cunningly contrived to put the purse, the thing stolen, into the bag of Azem, where it was found* and he was car ried before the Judge, who was the same Cadee that had recently con demned him. The Cadee, on seeing him, smiled.—’Surely this fellow,* s iid he, ‘loves me much, or hates his limbs more, or he would not give me such frequent calls.* On entering the hall of judgment Azem cried‘Justice, Allah? give me but justice.’ On hearing the evi deuce the Cadee condemned him to lose his other hand, and to be scurged and branded.—'Chen turning to tbe executioner, he said, ‘remember when you scourge him, that he called on Allah for justice, and may he strength en you.* Azem once more suffered, and at every lash he in truth thought that Allah had added strength to his tormenter’s arm. The whole sen tence being executed, the kind Der vises took him again to their care, and after a long, protracted misery, he was once more thrown on the wide world, poor and friendless, and worn down by affliction. With labor al most super-human he gained his home.—Here new misfortunes at tended. He found his wife had for got him, aud was married. His bro ther disowned him, and his children, long neglected, were only known by their vices. To add new poignancy to his grief he met Zoe, his beauteous wife,—Caught by surprise, she gave one look of recognition, and another that said begone and hidethy squalled form, and never let me see you more. The cup was now full; the last drop of misery had fallen into the chalice. Az-m raised his eye to heaven; not a word passed his lips. Crossing his mutilated limbs on bis breast, with an eye stony with dispair, lie sought the pool of Merazim. For the last time he called on Allah, and bent himself for the fatal plunge, when he felt him self withheld by an irresistible p wer. A voice thundered in Azem’s ear, ‘is this your faith?’ On turning, ho found himself standing in the pro se >ce ol a being whose eye dazzled like the sun, and whose almost trans parent form glowed in its lustre like the talisman of ttaschad. ‘Flic spirit sp *ke and said, *1 am Z idok, the an gel ol instruction. Your alms are re membered, and your good deeds arc pictured on tbe storied walls of Aras sam. Btul your pride lias dunned their lustre, and 1 am sent to pour on your dark tied soul the light, of wis dom. To your eye, suffering was the reward of crime or of folly. A* a superior, you dispensed your bounty. You trod ouraan, ami in the pride land prosperity ol your heart, you felt j aoove mortals, blessing Allah that your virtues raised you above them, j Affliction has now tried you, and you are touud wauling. Tne loss of wealth Allah willed; ingratitude of j friends was not your crime; ihe vices |of your < hildreu treated by youi ab s. nice cankered not your virtues, for you were treading ihe paths of duty; au(i lbe Ue.seriion ol iliosc you love suouUl not have driven to despair. You should mil have attempted, im piously, uncalled, to enter those a- Uodes o! the silent dead, over whi< li hangs darkness, until heaven remove the veil; and had not mercy stayed your from *Buera>h you would nave lull; ii, and you would have been num bered in the dread abode of Eblis. ‘Chad ot tolly! hear the w >rds of Zadok. MisfoiMiue is the parent of many laitu, fortitude, humili ty, aud iorgiveuess, are all her riiil urenj and heaven smiles not on a fair er ohject loan that man who in the darkest days, finds by tne aiu of faith all light wiiniu. Foe storms of the moral, like those ol the natural world* tend to purify. VVueu the tempest of affliction breaks on the soul it cleans es the he rt until it is a.-> pure as was that of Mahammed’s alter the angel Gabriel bad pressed from it the last al .ck drop of IraiJ mortality.—Allah’s mer. y gives you again io the world: it prosperous, be humbly bountiful; if in mercy you are afflicted, bend in cheeerful resignation.* Having thus sp ,ken, the ang-l spread his wings. One stream of splendid glow, vivid as the lightning’s flash, marked bis eddying path, and soft swelling music stole on the ear as he coursed his way to the highest heavens. As Azem withdrew his feet from the well, he awoke. The lovely Zoe, glowing in the beauty us love and in nocence, was by his side. The hence, beauteous flower of heaven, and the grateful lotus poured forth a thou sand rich perfumes. Azem could hardly realize that he had had so long a dream. With wonder he viewed his well formed limbs, perfect in their strength, and with joy he felt the blood of health tingling through his viens, and as the rising sun shed his •Seerafh. A bridge that after death all pass on their way to Paradise. It is a bout the width of a finger Beneath it is Dom Daniel, or the \iohometan hell, into which the wicked fall in attempting the passage. No. 11.