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VOL. I. THE CABINET Is published every Saturday , by P. I. ROBINSON , Warrenton , 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. From the Ladies Literary Port Folio. THE RETORT. BY MRS. HARRIET MUZZY. ‘Ala?, how slight a cause mav move, Dissensions between hearts that love!’ ‘I should be sorry to exercise an undue influence over your feelings, my child,’ said the venerable Mr. Montraville to his daughter, ‘or to bias in the slightest de gree, so momentous a choice; but I cer tainly do wish that your sentiments re specting your two admirers, were in uni son with iny own, and 1 cannot dismiss the hope that they will yet become so. It is true there are many qualities to ad mire in young Everell, but I wonder any woman can hesitate a moment in choos ing between him and the son of my old fi *ind. I never heard Hastings accused of a single fault, except, perhaps, of a lit tie too much pride of feeling; and you know, my sweet Clara, you have a suffi cient share of that.’ ‘Perhaps, father,’answered the laugh ing girl, ‘there may be’a little too much of that amiable quality between us; you may have, unconciously advanced a rea son why 1 should not make choice of your favorite Hastings for my future lord and master.* Clara little thought that her words were prophetic, but so it was to prove. After a short pause in the conversation, Clara looked up into her father’s face, while herb autiful eyes expressed the de light she felt in giving him pleasure—*l will be sincere now, my dear father,’ said she with a blush; ‘l have been comparing them these six months, and my opinions and sentiments have all gone over to your side. If Hastings will only give up two thirds of his pride, arc! allow me to keep quiet possession of mine, I think I’ll let him understand that I do not hate him.’ Mr. Montraville caught his daughter lo his bosom, and told her, with tears of joy, that he should now descend into the grave in peace, since she had given him the a surance that he should see her united to the man whom he would have chosen from all others. There was no drawback to Clara’s hap piness, except the idea that she must in flict pain upon a heart that loved her. She was,superior to the culpable vanity of glorying in an affection which she could not return, and had only hesitated in ac knowledging her preference for Hastings until she had thoroughly examined her own heart, and ascertained that there was nu lurking preference therefor her first youthful admirer, arid ue felt justified to herself, for she had never given Everell reason to suppose that she regarded him otherwise than a* an esteemed friend.— H isting- 1 wa9 now her acknowledged and accepted lover; and Everell, however much he might regret, had no right to blame Clara’s decision, yet he could not conquer his early pechant, or antnely ab sent himself from her society, while the slightest hope remained that the scale might yet turn in his favor. How delu sive is” the hope which is not founded in reason, and how u jU't do we become when self is interested! Everell almost hoped that Clara might see something to disapprove in his rival, or even that fe male caprice might influence her conduct, But no such thing occurred. Clara’s was a heart, which, once attached, was inca pable of change, and from its over inten sity of feeling; its, future misery waste spring. Hastings was, as Mr. Alontra vll had hinted, proud. Not of Ids worldly advantages, arid superior talents, far less of his polished manner and grace ful exterior, or of the homage all seerr.ec disposed to pay him. His pride w .tlir pride of feeling. lie could uotbfo’ k the YVarrenton, January 17, 1829. t least s widow t indatfeieisce hi those he loved,—lns ardent soul resigned itself i without reservation to the object of Ins attachment, and could be sati-fled with nothing short of an exclusive, engrossing | tenderness in return. The attention of Everell to Clara had given Imn uneasi ness; but as ‘he latter bad always behav ed towards him with the frank cordiality , of a friend, he was obliged to acknowledge, to himself, that he had no just reason lor those reasons of discontent which some times crept into his heart, to poison its sweetest anticipations. Clara had con fessed that her preference for himself had long existed; why then should he allow one thought of bitterness to disturb his happiness? At present, all was sunshine. Mr. Montraville, elated by the antici pated realization of his fondest hopes, seemed to have taken anew lease of life; and Clara’s exhiliratmg gaety shed its fa cinating influence on all around her— and Hastings beheld not a cloud to da-k- en his smiling prospects. YY ith his love ly Clara lie would stray for hours in the delightful environs of her paternal home, conversing on the stupendous wonders and beauties of natur , and interchang ing thoughts and in the sweet and holy communion ot conjugal soul*. But the serpent, distrust was destined to creep into this paradise of hearts, anil j with its deadly poison to wither aU its j flowers. On day as Hastings and his fu i ture father in-law were conversing of their intended arrangements, thi oid g- n* tleman, in the joy of his heart, congratulat ed himself on his o n sagacity, in disco vermg and drawing from Ins daughter the avowal of her preference for his ‘dear young friend ’ ‘The little gipsy,’ he said; was long enough making her choiee, but l never gave up the hope that you would win her at last, especia ly as she knew nothing else would make her old father so happy- I know she feels sorry too, foryout.g tjvereli, who, poor lad! is not to blame, cenainly, for loving such a girl as my Clara!’ A cold shiver ran through Has ing’s frame; an ictbolt seem ed to have fallen on his heart. Did Cla ra hesitate? was it possible that he owed her choice of himfelt to her father’s per suasions? and wliat if, after all, thought he, she has only accepted me because, by so doing, she was giving happiness to her father: Everell might still be prefered! toe thought was agony: he must b*. first, last, every thing or nothing, to Clara, she seed” was sown whose fruit was to produce the poison, which would drug his cup of joy with bitterness and death, lathe meantime Clara, totally unconoiou of what was passing in her lover’s heart, became daily more loudly attached to him, and the interest she felt was d*ep eaed by observing that his gaiety at ‘imes ■ieemed forced, and that he was evidently labouring under some concealed uneasi ness. At times, too, there was a petu lence in. his manner towards her which her sensitive feelings could ill brook, and sometimes tbe painful idea would iubude, that her lover’s feelings towards her w- re changed, her pride, which nearly equalled her lover’s, took the alarm, and tiiehai cyon days of perfect confidence were over One beautiful day, about a month preeed ingthat appointed for their union, Clara and Hastings were walking in the garden, where Everell, who had called as usual to pay his respects, hastened to join them In their walk Everell plucked a roce. and ,tiered it to Clara at the same moment that Hastings was in the act of presenting one. Clara took them both, but, with intuitive delicacy for bore to place as u=a al, the flowers which Hastings had given her, she retained both the ro-es in her hand. ‘You do not choose to wear my gift, Clara,’ obsei ved Hastings, reproach- j fully. ‘Nor mine either,’ rejoined Eve elf, and mine was first offered. ‘I sup pose,’ replied Clara in some confu-ion, I must wear them both —they are both so beautiful I should fin'd it difficult to make a choice,’ she said this with perfect sim nlicity, and merely from a dislike of how in w a marked preference in such a trifle. “Hastings saw the gratified smile which Everell tried to hide, and witn a sudden burst of uncontrollable emotion he exclaimed with bitterness, ‘I am not now to lerrn that Miss Montraville some- j times finds it dilficult to make a choice.’ His eye glanced on Everell, and his j meaning could not he misunderstood. Housed to resentment by the apparent want of delicacy evinced by his remark at | such a moment, Clara’s proud heart swell- j ed nearly to bursting, and with sudden j impulse she retorted. ‘But you are yet to learn that she has sometime- cause to ’ repent when she has made a choice.’ ‘Repent, then, madam, at your leisure,’ burst from the quivering lips of Hastings, as he rushed from her presence. Clara | stood for a moment as if slupified, the im port of her own words the next instant flashed upon her mind. ‘Oh Hastings! Hastings!’she wildly exclaimed, and sunk u. on <h<Bj ground. Everell’s boyish tri umph had vanished, lie hastened, to convey Clara to her father, ami putting her info his arms, without explanation, rushed out lo find Hastings, lie tell ! himself to be in some measure the cause 1 ut’ihis misunderstanding; and the agotiiz ed expression of data's countenance st>U(.k him with dismay. Hasting-'was not to be foun.l at his lodgings, ami Eve ! it’ll dared not return to Mr. Montraville 1 until Clara bad given some explanation jto her father. As Clara’s sen-es return i ed, she saw her parent.b* ndjng over her with he most agonized solicitude, he soon gathered fiotn her expressions of gnet aid regret, the muse of her distress; and although even his partial fondness could! not whulv excuse the rashness ot Clara s retort, he knew the sensitive delicacy, as well as the pride of her feelings, too well to be *u< prised at the effect ol Hastings remark. He poke to her with soothing kindness ‘I will send lor him, my child.’i he said, ‘and explain this mistake.* It is i only a lover’s quarrel. Huntings has re pented tre now of his petulence.* But Clara was in agony, a'd when evening r arne. but brought not, as u-ual, h. r lover, t<> delight with hi” presence the heart that idolized him. Mr. Montraville began to be seriously alarmed; be secretly des patched a note to Mr. Hastings n quest itg in explanation of the garden scene, aid treating the whole as a mistake. Hastings was absent from home, but in two days an answer was returned in these woi d?— ‘ My respected friend, you once to ! d me that your daughter was ‘long in making her choice;* she has since inti mated her repentance of that choice. 1 go, to endeavour to forget her, and per haps rny proud spirit will aid my break ing heart ’ This was too much for the floating father’s fortitude; his own words, uttered in the exultation of parental joy, had been the means of producing misery to the two beings he most loved, lo conceal the truth from Clara was impossi ble. She said nothing that could convey a reproach t<* her father, but imputed her lover's conduct solely to her own rash retort. ‘He will return to us,’ sobbed the almost heart-broken fattier, ‘he shall understand how he has wronged \ou!’ But the messenger whom he instantly des patched to Hastings brought back the in telligence that the latter had sailed, that m >rnmg for Europe. This was a death blow to Clara: the corroding sting of self reproach forbade the consolation of hope —her lover wandering from his country, with prospects, and a bleeding heart! ‘Oh. my father,’ she would say, ‘why did I not rerne ber that ‘a soft an swer turnethaway wrath;’ I have brought this misery upon myself.’ When death has robbed us of a beloved object —when the grave ha- closed over the idol of our affection, though the heart seems burst ing with its load of anguish, there is con solation in the reflection that the sore be reavement is the will of heaven, and rea son and religion call upon us to check the violence of grief. But when the heart feels its bereavement to be the conse quence of unkindness or hasty resent ment, there is no balm for the wounds in flicted by an accusing spirit For the sake of her father, who felt, most keenly, the disappointment of hi- cherished h q*es, and who was almost heart broken by tne sight of her sorrow’. C’lara struggled with her feelings, and wrestled with des pair, but in vain. The blow was given: and grief was consuming the vital -pnugs of life; its cruel ravages were visible in the sunken che k. and attenuated f..rm of the once gay and blooming Clara! £f hut j one more uang was wanting to complete | the desolation The packet which bore | the unhappy Hastings from hi? home, v as 1 wrei lied ii her parage to Europe, and he perish ’d ‘n the pride of his youth, his ta lents, and his beau’y 1 the victim of jea lous pride, and hasty resentment. Cla ra survived nut a short time after she re ceived the intelligence, and the aged Mr, Montraville soon descended, mourn ing and childless, to his grave. H. M. From the Staunton Spectator. MARY HARVEY. Daughter of Colla, thou prt low! when wilt thou rise in thy beauty, first of Rrin*9 Maids? Thy sh op iq long in the tomb—and tin* WArviog distant far. The hum eh II n-f rune to thy bed, and any \w ke l) srthula! Awake then first of women!* Dssi i v Ht was an awful time th s • t di-m wars,* said my old R volutin vy companion, as we sat together, mr fowling piece at our side on one ol the high lulls of Augusta. ‘Those fair fields which now extend themselves before us waving ii the rich luxuri ance of harvest, were then a wild de salt, —those beautiful majestic moun tains now clothed in the blue of II av. Jen, and only cx< iting in loveliness the rapturts of their beholder, wore (then the haunt of ruthless savages.— Every bush concealed an enemy, and even the fireside of tin* hardy sefrler was not safe from the prowling foe, S< est thou the smoke, which curls on yon distant hill, mingling itself with the clouds? There in olden times was the dwelling of a brave adventurer, and his lovely family. They were my friends—the companions of my youth. But they are gone! The last survivors of the lonely group lnd floated down the stream of time into the broad still ocean of eternity, and | am left the survivor of all that was dear on earth. The old man dashed a tear drop, from his cheek, as he fin ished this apostrophe to other times; and l urged him to relate to me the history of his departed friends which he did in the following words: Colonel Harvey was the soul of chivalry and of the most romantic turn of mind. Nature and eduction had combined to render him fit to shine in courts or cities, and the ele gance of his manners was only sur passed by the strength and cultivation of tiis mind. At an early age he married a lady who seemed destined for him by the fates. Their states and disposition* were cast in the same mould, and it was not extraordinary that happiness the most exquisite and refined should flow from such a union. They lived but for each other, and disgusted soon with the empty show and heartless hypocrisy of the great world, they determined to leave the metropolis of Scotland and seek for more congenial and calmer pleasures in this western hemisphere. Perhaps the Col. was urged by other motives to abandon the land of his nativity He was an enthusiastic admirer of Liberty, and it may be that his heart looked for ward to events whi< li did not trans pire for several years, afrer his arri val in America, but which finally e waucipated this happy country, and No. 3.}.