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first, newest rays on the cene a round, he arose and bent in prayer, returned thanks for the instructions of the night. From this time the les son of Z dok never was blotted from his memory, and it became a pro verb, who more kind in their bounty than Azem, for his heart responds to the charity of his hand. After this A zero lived happy many years with his dear Z e, a blessing to others and by Allah blest. 1 Here the speaker closed. ‘Allah!’ said one Turk. •Mahammed!* said another, and ‘wonderful!* cried a third.—After a small collection, each resumed h s meditations, until some new might object excite them. H. K. From the Baltimore Fmeral<t. JOURNAL OF A LONG DAY. “And the sun stood still—and there was no day like that, before it or after it." —Jo-liun. Fourth of July. —Crack! crack! bang! crack! ding ding! crack! ba,,g!— Woke out of a sound sleep with a low bead ‘Mrs. Grampus, what time i# it, love.’ ‘Don't know, dear.’ ‘lt must be early, for the stars are very bright’ ‘The s'ar—ra—ran; yes, they are very bright.’ ‘You had better rise, my dear, and strike a light—f>r we mnst have breakfast before tive oVlock. ’ Got up. as I was ordered, & found that it was ju-t three o < lock, pulled on my bools, and walked out t<> take the morning air—the streets already crowded with Tom, Dick and Harry, Tray Blanch and Sweetheart, hel ter skelter, thronging the avenues to ob tain a good place to see the procession— walked all over the city, as I thought, till breakfast lime; and coming home, found it onl y four o’clock—laid down on the so fa and dreamed of living six weeks, wok** Up ands Mind it quarter past four. My wife’s shrill voice sounding above the bells and crackers, to the tune of ‘Mr. Grampus, Mr. Grampus, ain’t you asham ed to get drunk before breakfast, you la- ZV.idle beast, Mr. Grampus.’ ‘My dear wife, don’t scold me, for I am very tired —h ive breakfast as soon us possible, for 1 fear we shall lose our places for tha show.* *You are right for once in your life—hut I have nothing to settle the cof fee, so we must have some of yesterday’s warmed over.’ ‘Any thing my love, but Jet’s have it as soon as you can. At five o’clock sat down to breakfast, but all appetite for it was over, having lost it by waiting too long. ‘Mr. Gram pus why don’t you eat something—shall 1 help you to a sausage. ‘Mrs. Gram pus I have got a low bead and no app**- tite; allow me to take a nap on the sofa and when the children aredredsed. wake me, and we will take our places fi>r the procession.’ Without any more ado, I threw myself on the couch, and in a mo ment was fast asleep. Now I made a voy age across the Atlantic, and had a long talk with Cobhett on the qualifications of Lord Wellington, as premier—then I pas ted over to Thebes, principally by steam boats and railroads, and lived a whole year in a pyramid, writing all the while bv a rush light for the Emerald, a papar pub'ighed there. I tho’t, which was more praised than patronized—l then made the tour of Greece on foot, and made mint juleps on the tup of mount Ida, in compa ny with John Neal, who pretended all the while not to relish them—and then, just as l was stepping into a balloon to make an aerial voyage, was roused by the mu sic of‘Mr. Grampus, Mr. Grampus, you out snore the cannon and blunderbusses Under the window; will you get op and go with us into Baltimore street?’—‘What o’clock is it my angel?* ‘Quarter past five, to be sure—and late enough, too—ah dear, we will never get a place to see the procession.* ‘Only quarter past five, why we have been out of bed a month; well,. lam ready—go on I’ll follow thee.’ At half past five, we were comfortably standing at a window which was so block ed up, that we could see nothing, and were all the while edified by the squalling of children and the a urmur of approving voices from those persons who were able to see the moving mass below. It is unnecessary for me to endeavor to record my feelings all the while the crowd was moving—suffice it to say, I could see nothing but the helplessness of my situation, jammed up all the morning, as 1 thought for nine hours, with nit wife and nine small children, like John Rogers at the stake, undergoing another martyr dom. But I consoled myself that “time and the hour would run through the roughest day’*—(apropos, Johnson did not understand this passage—run through means in this, wear out,) —so, in soother sense of the expression, after the show was ended we run through the streets, it being, as I supposed, three o’clock, my usual dining hour—invited two friends by the way to partake of a roast pig, which i imagined already on the table, with a lem on in his mouth. This put me in mind of punch; so letting my wife and children jog on as they pleased, I stepped into Beltshoover’s and refreshed myself and companions, and hastened homeward, with an appetite like a hyena’s. What was our astonishment on arriving at the house, to find it just half past nine! We gazed at each other in silen* astonish ment, for we all thought it must be after three—and then we almost resigned our selves to despair. Did’nt know how to pass the dismal interim of six hour*; my friends wished me good morning and were ofF— so I took a stroll about the city, dropt into the Atheirseum—the Ex* hange—two or three soda shops— gut my haircut and curled only to kill time—had my boots blacked twice; bought a tooth brush ami a pair of knitting needles to please my wife/ and after travelling, I am sure five hours—l returned home, to find it only eleven o’clock!—‘Lord have mercy!’ 1 involuntarily exclaimed, ‘what a long day.* ‘lndeed, Mr Grampu-, cried my wife, it is the longest day I ever passed.’ ‘ Passed? you han’t got through half of it— let us have dinner as soon as you can get it—it is two days at least since the Fourth of July. I now threw myself on the sofa, and read a newspaper from beginning to end. advertisements ami all—then I counted the words in the whole sheet—when, af ter carefully paring my nails, my wife told rne dinner was ready. It was only 2 o’clock then,’ and what to do with the evening I could not contrive; a thought struck me, and after sitting an hour at table, eating a plate of whortle berries, one by one, with a large pin, I cal l“d on the Miss Lunderwhackumtinder burghes, and offered my services to them tor the evening, when a grand display of fireworks was to be made on Federal Hill. The young ladies eagerly assented to my offer, and I returned home to get rid of f the enemy until 7 o'clock, and to this end, being very much latigoed, l undress ed and wen! to bed—then I dreamed that a hug> green turtle, large as an elephant, was chasing me—& again 1 was in ditating amidst the most sublime and picturesque scenery, where, and all at once, the heav ens opened through g *rgeous clouds, and rained p“ns already nibbed and fit for use; till the time arrived when my wife prom ised to call me i. e. half past 6 P. M. I started from my sleep, and staring about me, recollected the engagement I had made with the ladies, and thinking it was the next morning, exc'aimed— ‘ Why didn’t you call me last evening, Mr. Grampus, you know 1 made an engage ment to accompany our friends, and your jealousy has been the cause of my’ dis grace—the ladies will think I must have been drunk yesterday, and I am ru ined forever.’ ‘No such thing, my love,’ replied my wife, who, observing the con fusion of my ideas, wished to carry on the joke; ‘no such thing, come to your break fast, anti afterward, things may be easily adjusted.’—‘Thank you, my char, if you think it possible ’ In the mean time, iny wife despatched a messenger to the ladi s, requesting them to carry on the joke, which she explained to them—and after I had finished my breakfast as I thought, 1 flew to them in haste, and was pardon ed with suitable gravity. The illusion was still before me, aud l thought it morning, till observing two drummers coming down the street, much intoxicat ed, 1 exclaimed in di-gust, ‘ls it possible these fellows have not enough of the fourth yet?’ when my wife, who could contain herself no longer, unlocked mv brains for me, and left me the miserable reality of the still continuing day. I en dured the joke as well as I could, and after being laughed at by the ladies, start ed off for Federal Hdl. There I observ ed a well looking man sound asleep, and thinking he might take cold, waked him; I when he vociferated—‘Clear out, and let me alone! I have been a-bed ever since the fourth of July, and mean to be till Sunday •’ Aftef seeing the fire-works, I returned home, having lived, at least, four days in one. I have not the least doubt that there were ninety six hours in the day of the fourth July last—and no one will con vince me that the day after was not Tues • day. A Descendant of Peter Rugg. CABINET. WAiiRKNrON, AUG 9. 1828. Our distinguished fellow citizen, Duncan G. Campbell , Esq. died at his residence, near Washington, Wilkes county, on the 4th inst. Negro Stealing l On the 23d ult. a negro tellow, belong ing to Henry B. Thompson, of Taliaferro county, was met in the road, while on his way to work, by two wagoners with their wagon, who promised a treat to him if he would assist in moving apartof their load ing; after the boy got in, he was seized by the throat and confined, and one staid in the wagon for the purpose of keeping him quiet while the other drove. They con tinued travelling til! about ten o’clock at night. He was fastened with the la-h of the whip to a chain attached to the wagon, and was intended to be guarded by them but fortunately sleep overcame them, and the boy, with a knife that he had with him, cut the whip by which he was confined and returned home. He states that they passed through Ciawfordville,& Greenes borough and appeared to be travelling westward. CANDIDATES FOR CONGRESS. George R. Gilmer, of Oglethorpe, Richard 11. Wilde, of Richmond, Char'es E. Haynes, of Hancock, Gen. Wiley Thompson,of Elbert, Major James Merriwethcr, of Clark, Col Daniel H. Brailsford, of M’lntosh, James M. Wayne, of Chatham, Thomas F. Foster, of Greene, Charles Williamson, of Baldwin, T. U. P. Charlton, of Chatham, Major Wm. Triplett, of Wilkes John A. Cuthbert, of Monroe. The following gentlemen were nomin ated by the Troup party, as electors of President and Vice President. ‘The elec tion takes place on the first Monday in November next, bv the people. Col. JOHN MAXWELL, of Bryan. ROBERT R. REID, Esq. of Richmond. Dr WILLIAM TERRELL, of II incock. AUGUSTIN S. CL VYTON, of Clark. Gen. D. BLACKSHCAR, of Laurens SOLOMON GRAVES, Esq. of Newton. Col. JOHN RLT THERFOR D, of Baldwin. JOHN MOORE, E-q of Oglethorpe. Maj. OLIVER PORTER, of Greene. A matter of fact and worthy of note ! “ An Administration Meeting, says the Columbus Enquirer, has been held at Wrightsborough—we believe that every person concerned in it were Clark men, and none but such have ever attended, similar meetings in this State. No Troup man as far as our knowledge extends, has ever justified the Tariff, or expressed a preference to Mr. Adams over General Jackson in the present contest between them for President; yet this is done daily by many of the Clark party, secretly and openly. For the CABINE V. THE VESPER , Xo. VIII. The curlew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herds Wind slowly o’er the lea. The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to solitude and me. GRAY. The shadows of evening were fist lengthning, amid the cloudless 9plendor of a vernal sunset. Gaily the feathered songsters were retiring to theiT nightly haunts, basking in all the golden magnifi cence of the last tints of the departing orb, whose brilliant rays were fading in the approaching twilight. O! it was a scene on which the calm eye of Philoso phy, and the beaming glance of “the Poet in tine phrenzy rolling’’ alike, might gaze m astonishment and admiration. And is there one among the insignificant beings ot earth, who could contemplate such a scene, without breathing, in heartfelt ado ration. a grateful orison to the Great Ar chitect, whose matchless wisdom could form so perfect a system. Wretched mortal, I envy the not; If in the sinceri ty of thy heart thou can say, there is no thing in this, other than the confusion of a jumbled mass of atoms—if thou can say the bright orb which yields thee light by day—-the moon, which guides thy path by night, and those brilliant constella tions, he sparkling gems, studding the blue firmament of Heaven, and revolving with that unvarying certainty, which art cannot equal, nor skill imitate, is not the work of Him at whose command the proud wave 9 were stayed, and the sun and moon stdod still. It was on such an evening as I have at tempted so feebly to describe, in the month of April 182— that I sauntered along the bank of the river skirting the village of ***** immediately below the town, to enjoy the quiet tranquility of the beautL ful grove which decorated its banks. Tall water-oaks, beach and poplar, spread forth their branches, over the stream and its shores; and beneath, the less majestic, though not less beautiful, hawthorn and walnut, o’er-shaded the grass, with their more delicate limbs, arrayed in all the rich luxuriance of nature, to invite the weary wanderer from the cares and vex ations of business, to seat himself and ponder over the chequered scenes of hu man life. I had prepared myself with the neces sary implements for lighting a fragrant Cabanos, which I soon drew from mv pocket, and seated myself beneath a haw thorn, reclining against its trunk. Soon the fragrant smoke issued in ample vo lumes, and curling in special wreaths, far above my head, was lost among the bran ches. There is something, even in this, light and insignificant as it is, typifying (he existence and close of frail mortality; the last, perhaps the most simple, among the works of art. How true an emblem of earthly existence—slowly the fire con sumes the fragrant leaf, yet, e‘re a few moments have passed, but a few light ashes are left, and these are scattered to the winds of Heaven,leaving no trace be hind to say 7/ras there. Even so, man passes through mortality—to day, he en ters the arena in all the infantile graces of childhood—to-morrow, manhood sets in perfection on his brow—another day, the blighting frost of age, mar his once fair form, and he gently enters the cold, cold grave. Dust unto dust he soon decays, perhaps forgotten by those few friends who cherished his early years, and shared his later and more manly enjoyments. But there is one by whom his virtues will never be forgotten; She whjqjn health shared his labors and cares, in affliction smoothed his pillow and when the grim messenger called him to the ‘ quiet bourn from whose journey no traveller returns,’ closed his eyes in all the terrors of death, wrought his shroud and balhed the marble forehead, with widowed tears; She, in deed, will forget his frailties, but will ne ver cease to cherish a fond remembrance of his merits and virtues, * Woman alone was formed -to bless The life of man, to share hit. care, His bosom soothe when keen distress. Hath wing‘d his sharpened arrow there.* Though humble, perhaps unpoetical, this verse, yet how true has the poet, in these few simple lines, portrayed the female character. Reader hast thou ne ver seen the lonely widow leading her little cherub infants, arrayed in the sable garb of deep mourning, to the last resting place of their once fond father—has thou never seen her bending o‘er his grave or tracing, on the marble tomb, the humble words which tell that he lived and died—hast thou never heard her, at the si lent sanctuary nf the dead, unfolding to her attentive offspring, the tale of his vir tues, and offering, for the government of their future vears, the example of his meritorious life. Cold as the flinty rock must be that heart that would not melt at her devotions, who would not respect her grief, and yield the silent tribute of a tear, in sympathy for her woe. If there are such, I own them not, they belong not to the race of man, in that pure and unso phisticated state, which marks the human form divine. There are other and far different scenes where woman shines pre-eminent; Behold her the unfortunate companion ofthe vota ries of dissipation, watching the midnight taper, to welcome, to her bosom, a hus band debased with the hellish crime of intemperance; consuming his all, even the labor of her own hands, in intoxicating draught of the poisenous bowl, while his amiable wife nursed in the lap of wealth and luxury, now enfeebled and languid from poverty and neglect, her constitution destroyed, by his brutal treatment, can not even yield nourishmet from her bo som, to cherish their tender infant; and when iu watchful anxiety she meets him at the door, perhaps he dares to raise his arm in savage brutality, and hurls her from him. Still constant as the sun, she heeds it not, and cherishes him with all the ardour of early love, smoothing hie pillow and nursing him with the tender est care. Ths first word she teaches her little infant, is to lisp his name, and while he is celebrating the midnight orges