Newspaper Page Text
S'”
VOL* I.
THE CABINET
Is published every Saturday by f\ L.
UUBINSOJV, Warrentun, 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. \
from the Boston Statesman.
COURTSHIP. , A SHOWER.
The storm that had swept so pro
fusely over the woods and hills was
now subsiding. The ample sky flung
bark its vieling tresses, and the sun
came out onre more, touching the
dripping wilderness with a singular
beauty. The exceeding richness
of the blue heaven, the fiery edging of
the distant clouds, the bright green
outline of the forest, and the swolett
streams that ran braiding themselves
into the long leaning grass, presented
a singular map of nature—dripping in
the freshness of a summer shower.
The winds were as clear and cool as
if they had slept on the surface of the
ocean; the fl iwers of a thousand hues
were in full bloom, and poured out
their perfume, as the fountain poured
its song, to the bent of the fervent
wind.
•Well, this shower is over at
last, Ellen,’ and I guess it will be all
the better for it, —ail the better; I say,
Ellen, you'd better come out and
see the rainbow, before it fades forev
er,’ and Ellen was out with ascautious
step, as the wet grass, like the inane
of a sweating steed, shed its thousand
drops upon her feet.
•The rainbow! which way is it,
Charles? I can't see it.’
• Why don't you see, right through
the notch of that maple tree, where
the leaves are torn off—-now flie wind
blows; take care of your clothes,* don‘t
you see how it showers down on you,
Ellen? —there, there‘sthe rainbow, —
and a fine one—l never saw the differ
ent colors more clearly defined. I*ll
tell you Ellen, it always makes me
think that some seam of the beautiful
sky has been rent, by the shaking of
the thunder, and the airs of heaven
fallen out—but not daring to wander,
they cling to the wound, until they
•re taken in again.’
•Now Charles, I like you fr that;
but see, it has almost vanished; the
clouds that were here just now, are
all gone; and the sky is as blue, as—
< As—your eyes, my dear.’
Pho, I don't want your help—be
sides, l don*t think your comparison is
perfect; for my eyes are not quite so
blue—they are lighter.’
•Well, Ellen, we'll say as—blue as
your stocking.
•Ila, ha, ha—tha'ts worse y et’ and
she displayed a beautiful aocle, and a
white stocking.
• What'll you say now, mister
Charles?*
•Why, Ellen, —as blue as itself—is
that correct?’
•It will do, Charles; but look at that
dry bare limb among the green leafy
branches on that maple tree—what
does that remind you of?’
•Various things. It is not unlike a
dead child in a great flourishing fam
ily, still nourished by all the surviving
members with an. affectionate solici
tude; but answeriug their silent whisp
ering with au enchaunted look of tie- 1
cay. You may deck it With leaves,
but it knoweth them not; and the
leaves wither upon the stem and lose
their fragrance, and are blown away,
in the summer wind. So 1 have seen
the maiden deck the course of her
lover, with coronals blooming from the
,-hilt stde. in the beautiful hope that
the of living things she so
much loved, might reanimate a loved
Vv .• nt vn, May hi . 1 J.
on , IVo o his etru it *o i-?iU r. N v,
Ellen, if 1 sboul i die before y u, th
is what I should vaut you to do >o n.
—‘take me out hi the open air,’ and
fling flowers up mi my breast. Wi);
you?’
•Perhaps I will but you dou‘f think
of dying before me. I ii p ,
— that wnuld'iit he proper. It is hu
so polite for a girl to cry at her Invert
death, as for a man, at the death of
one he loves. Ami that is all the. rea
son why 1 wish you to let m die first,
because I should sleep much easier, i
my grave, if 1 thought you stood by it
cry’ing.’
•Ellen, this is all f<-l deml. 1
don't calculate to die this fifty years;
and I don‘t calculate you will*
• Ho! I live fifty years—i would
sooner cut my own ’
•Hush!—Ellen Fleming, you may
live, as long as you pleas**, but so long
as you do live, l intend to love you
with all mv soul—l do. How white
your hand is—how you blush! oh, El
len’—
• What, Charles?’
‘Why, tliere‘B the minister, and
there‘s the church; and here are we.’
• Well w hat of that?’
*1 want you to go with roe to the
minister's, while 1 get him to go to
church.—lt's week-day, and I‘d rath
er be married on a week day.’
-Who are you going to be married
to?’
•To you.’
‘Very well.’
J. 0. R.
.MATRIMONY.
The following huniuious letter is extract
ed from a paper printed some four or
five years since. We invite specula
tors in matrimony to the perusal of it.
Sugar Hill , Oct . 27, 1825.
Dear Ned— What in conscience
Ned, do you suppose induced me to
get married? 1 really wish that I
knew—(or fefetfidcs the pleasure J
should have in telling you, it would
be a most particular gratification to
myself- I think that l must have
been crazy or bewitched to get main
ed at thirty, aod all for love, how
could Ibe such a dunce. 1 believe
this to be the most dangerous place to
bachelors that was ever seen. None
have been known to survive, that
trusted themselves long in this cursed
town.
Don't come here, Ned, if you want
to remain a bachelor. If you do, you
will be inevitable shipwrecked on the
shoals of matrimony, you might as
well undertake to navigate the Nor
vvegian whirlpool. If you come here
you are sure to be sucked in, and all
the cables in Christendom cant bring
you up.
If I thought you ever had the blue
devils, or any other devils, or any
thing else to make you completely and
perfectly miserable, l would spend
no time in relating my calamities; but
refer you to the worst part of your
own experience, as a mode of estima
ting mine. But you never was mis
erable, and never will he; you are
still the some laughing bachelor, eter
nally on the upper side of Fortune's
wheel, while. 1 am paddling at the bot
tom. You are still free as the birds of
heaven, or the dew of the forest, while
l am bound, fettered and confined like
a condemned malefactor. Don't laugh
at me, for i wont bear it—don't pre
tend to pity me, I wont endure that—
don't say a word to me.
1 ivli jou, Ned, you would not
know me. Why, bow do you think 1
look since I am married? I'll tell
you; my gay and cheerful looks are
gone- my flesh is gone—iny health
and spirits are gone—ur*y fiat clothes (
are gone— uy y i-j all
gone, Ned, ex e • -*, o fives,
a.oi Will live vvn. ~ i are (lust
au'.i aides. tiu> n> y-jy think
1 ve goi t**r all i ? I ve* got a
)<-(■< <o tong <t y. n, aod .huej
v b.iiiig .i ■ j'diow, and a shade or two
o! oi vu,).vit r-. paper. l*ve got a|
broken constitution and a broken’
hee?s —l*ve got in debt—l*ve -nt to
be .i poor miserable devil - t—
---uo, i won't t,U y* u what l‘Vo got fori
a wile iu mis sentence. But who do!
you think 1 married? I*ll tell you who
i thought i .armed. I thought I
m.'Tried a tall elegant genteel gwi, as
oout seventeen, with a dark blue ye|
and beautiful face; her manners easy
and graceful; her conversation gayj
and sprightly, and her disposition the
best in the world; uncommonly neat
in her person, and perfecly a quainted
with, aud competent to manage all the
domestic affairs of u family. Indus
trious and contented; generous in her
friendship; doing a favor with ala ri>
ty, ahd revenging an injury w ith re
iurlance; a lover of home and more
anxious to see a little tircle ofwapm
hearted friends happy around her,
than to dash aud dazzle and dissipate
her time with tue idle heartless mob.
1 thought her incapable of envy, and
was sure t at she hated tatling, scan
dal and calumny, I believed all this,
and much more, and yet I hesitated
to ask hei io he mine.—And uow for
once, Ned, guess, like a Yankee, as
jou are, what was the reason. You
never can—i must tell you. j
thought her much too good for me;
tiiai so precious a p ece of porcelain
could never be made to unite with
sUv n a coarse, milk-pan making hit of
clay as mye-df. She iutl s- many
perfections, aud 1 was conscious of so
many faults, that 1 shuddered to think
how her tc.rier heart would bleed,
wiu u she tnuiiti how much she had
overrated ny gouU qualities. 1 got
over Ur* dilfi uity by mink jg I might
| improve; tart .o r example would g.
very l‘u* lowafvid making ok* every
thing I should be; and if the wheel
had brought me up a prize, why
should 1 not take it as wa ll as aaotnei
After all, you can have no iUch
how much 1 suffered when I offered
myself to her. J could not spe.dk-
I was so much ashamed to ask sue
delicate, charming, beautiful girl, to
marry one so little worthy of her, that
i was ready to die with fear and mor
tification. She blushed, hesitated,
said sue was so young- so little ac
quainted with the world—what I said
was so unexpecied to her (she had
been thinking I should play the fool
for weeks) —and finally she lived so
happily at home she thought she could
never change her situation 1 long
pause&distressing silence--heui- but 1
won't go on with ttiis. It is enough
for you to know that your friend con
ducted himself in a most driveling
manner, and changed his merry face
into such a hanging look, as no inau
could own unless in the high road to
ruin, or determined to get married.
To have done with this part of the
stdry, we were chained together. lit
three weeks I found that instead of the
girl I thought I had married, I had
been yoked to a dumpy, awkward,
vulgar girl, about twenty-five.— Hei
in aimers rude and coarse, her disposi
tion sullen and surly her temper irri
table, implacable, reveng lul, anti
unrelenting, rough as the vexed ocean.
Negligent of person, and ignorant o!
the most common affairs; idle, discon
tented, stingy, conceited, obstinate
ami foolish; listening with pleasure t<
the rankest scandel arid foulest ca
lyrnny, and determined at all baz|
zards, to nave her own way.
Now, Ned, profit by my ft iiy—
whatever you do, never ando 4 you get
married. It is all a cheat -it is /ike
a bundle of patent medicines - y >tl
may read the imposing and flattering
lab<*l, and the wonderful cures, with
impunity; but swallow the pres* rip
tion, and it will help you out of the
world for your * rcdulity. Heavens!
when 1 think what 1 have suffered,
•md consider what a happy dog 1
might have been, my brain is on fire.
Perhaps you will say, that I should
have insisted on a husband's rights,
i and govern my own house. You know
I nothing about it—the thing is impos
sible--you might as well attempt to
] thaw the polar icq, or imprision the
! winds, as control an obstinate woman.
All your firmness A resolution will a
vaif nothing? yoij will at. last be sub
d ied Plie massive rock that lif.s its
grey head above the vex’ and and troub
led o! ean, makes no impression upon
its foaming wateiw, but is itself gradu
ally worn away and mingled with the
dashing w aves. Ami thus your reso
lution, energy and firmness, would be
by little and little annihilated. You
have no idea of the countless resources
the sex can resort to, in acquiring and
mantaining their power.—Smiles used
sjMPiuglv- ci' in profusion
sickness and sighs —mad fits, hysteric
fits, scolding fits, speechless fils! (but
these are short) and innumerable oth
er expedients are resorted to. What
will a woman not hazard to have her
own way- - wealth, fame, happiness,
and heaven she it, ready to risk; what
ever may be said about the shortness
of life, it is doubtless a great mercy
that we do not have to drag the chain
forever Affectionately your dis
consolate friend.
GEORGE GREGG.
From the Constitutionalist.
The National Intelligencer has lately
lowered it* tone a full octave in relation
to the merits of the pre&ent incumbent of
the Presidential chair. The last nuin
•er of that paper brings m an article
•vhich relieves (ienertl Ja cks‘>n from
ouch of the odium which the c al tion
prints have been endeavoring to rust upon
urn ever Tice he was first sea** and at the
uelm of state- I’ is now supposed that
the President** aberrations in dismissing
from olfi the followers of his late oppo
nent, and filling the vacancies with his
own friends, are the work of his political
advisers, who have forgotten the distinc
tion which merit should create, and have
made the political complexion of incum
bents the only rule of their priscription.
Phe President is absolved from ail fault,
except that of drawing round his person
men incable of giving correct and whole*
some advice, either from a dearth of a
bility, or a lack of purity in principle.
We wish Messrs. Gales and Seaton had
taken this position at first—it would at
least have left them a more obluse angle
to turn upon, and spared them the neces
sity of many pages of future explanation
as to the motives of so sudden a tack, es
pecially when the gales with which they
commenced their voyage are still blow,
ing steadily in the same direction.
But even admitting the intelligencer
to be sincere in its declaration that it is
unfair ‘to impute to the President of the
United States all the abuses of power
which have been perpetrated since his ac
cession to the Presidency,* we would yet
enquire upon what grounds censure has
been so lavishly poured out upon the
ministers of the Government for their al
ledged ‘proscription?’
What is there in the removal of an
offi er of the Government, so outrageo u
to the first principles of justice and equity
autocall for the unqualified animadver
s-’ nos tue whole .host of outs? The in
unbent it must be admitted, holds his
poil at the will of the grantor; he has no
vested right—no tee-simple in it, nor
does he take the donation for life, or even
No. 52.