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VOL. 11.
THE CABINET
Is published every Saturday by P. L
HO BINS ON, fVarrentun , Geo at
three dollars per annum, which may r be
discharged by two dollars and fifty
aents if paid within sixty days of- the
time of subscribing •
Mr. Paulding lias published a vol
ume of sketches under the title of
♦Tales of a good woman by a doubt
ful gentleman, * which are greatly
admired by the critics. The fellow
itig is selected, in its condensed form,
from Mr, Legget's interesting Critic;
it exhibits the horrid results of intox
ication in a form almost too repelling
to he contemplated, yet the delinea
tion does not exceed the reality.
Similiar incidents are often related
the newspapers; arid the moral of
the story >s calculated to make a deep
and fasting impression.— Jlrg s.
•The first of the tale is a most pow
erful and vigorous sketch, and the
direct and positive tendency of it is
calculated to be of the most salutary
kind. It is written in the form
o’ a confession, by one who, born
of respectable and atlluent parents,
gnd brought up with tender in
dulgftice, is gradually led astray into
paths of vice, first from a habit of Bs
gon'ating with persons of inferior sta
tions, and afterwards by being indue
,d to visit the haunts of gamesters, of
Ihe nn>st dissolute and abandoned
eiass. —The unhappy young man is
hurried from one grade of vice to an
other, (ill he at last looses all his pro
perty by the arts (if his associates, 6c all
the respect of society from the confirm
ed irregularity of his habits. In order
to pay a debt of honor , ho embezzles
the property of his sisters, which had
Ven entrusted to his guardianship,
and afterwards, to prevent his infamy
b. ing discovered, he marries a young,
interesting, and wealthy female, from
whose partial eyes lie had managed
to conceal his excesses.—For a while,
after these inauspicious nuptials, the
resolution of the dissipated husband is
sufficiently exerted to enable him to
refrain in a great measure from in
dulgence in his deplorable and ruin
ous practices. But the mutual deli
cacy and sensitiveness of his characs
ter had been too thoroughly eradicat
ed for him long to find a sufficient
sohree of happiness in the quiet in
tercourse ot social love. *T lie old
impassioned ways and habits of his
mind remained,* and falling in with
some former companions cif his mid
night orgies he was without difficulty
persuaded to revisit the ‘club’ where
his fortune add reputation had been
spent, and where he was to become
yei more deeply implicated in evil.
About this period of time the marriage
of one of his sisters making it necessa
ry that her portion should be torth
coming, and having now a man to
d.'al with, who could not be put off by
the artifii es which lie had hitherto
practiced on his credulous relatives,
he is induced to load bis soul with an
other act of infamy, which more than
♦he fit r, precipitates him rapidly to
wurds icretreviable ruin* *l!ie crisis
05 fate,’says the unhappy drunk
♦arrived.* My generous and
- „earted wife had pereintorily.re
v and all the cautions of her relatives
-ve her fortune settled on herself.
’ soe always replied, no, I trust
-with my happiness, and my fr
---* e shall go with it. It rested with
• now, either to tell her candidly my
situation, and throw myself on her
generosity, or to make use of her for
tune seer- tlv, to repla< e that <>f my
sster. That strange pride, which
Ciitigs even to guilt and degredation,
prompted 0W to the latur. Io re-
Warren! on, #1 me SMh 18^9.
place the money ot who u 1 !i id r * >b <i |
my wife of that, which after event,|
proved, she would have given mb with
hel* heart.
♦Up to this period, I have loved A
meiia as much as it was possible for
me to love a generous virtuous
woman. Her affection, and the
complete acquiescence to my wish
es which she exhibited on all oc
casions, had won all that was left of
heart seared in the fires of mad volup
tuouSness. But from the moment I
robbed, 1 bated her.—-With the iujus
tice which 1 believe ever accompa
nies the perpetration of injuries, I coo.
sidered my wife a spy, prying into my
actions, and at every moment on the
eve of discovering the deception I bad
practised, the robbery I bad commit
ted. All confidence was now at a
end, on my part; all pleasure in her
society; I began to estrange myself
from home, and by degrees to drink
drams, to keep up the courage of das
tardly guilt, and make ine stiilhientl*
a brute to meet her after rny nightly
orgies without sinking into the earth.
Now it was that my downhill course
became more rapid than ever. 1 fell
in company with some of my old asso
ciates of the club; renewed iny intima
cy with Baity and the ferret eyed
butcher; got half fuddled, was robbed
and cheated every night arid returned
to my home every morning, more of
a beast than 1 left it in the evening.*
\ To liquidate the losses thus incur
red deeper and deeper draughts are
made on his vvife‘s fortune, and to
bury the galling consciousness of his
turpitude—still galling to bis seared
and inundated heart—he sleeps his
senses in the stupefaction of brandy .
From one excess he proceeds to an
other, urftil be at length becomes a
brute—&hloted mass of disease—en
tirely forsaken by those were ad
dieted—but in a less degree—to the
hateful vice by which he had been
prostrated. He becomes at length re
duced to absolute penury, and has
only a miserable liovef to shelter him
seif and ruined family from (he storms
of heaven.—The catastrophe of his
fate now draws rapidly on. During
all this time his heart broken w ife had
borne him company, meekly bearing
his brutality ancJ ill treatment, and en
deavoriug to force herself into an ap
pearance of cheerfulness which her
wan and wasted condition too plainly
denied.—But, as the author observes,
there is a certain state of endurance,
a forced elevation of the spirits, which
cannot be sustained beyond a stated
period, without shaking tfie intellec
tual fabric to its foundation. The
reason of the uncomplaining partner
of the drunkard at last becomes
unsettled. ‘Her mind was some
times evidently not mistress of itself
and her vivacity became, at inter
vals, when she wai strongly excited,
so misplaced and ungovernable, as to
indicate too evidently that the springs
which regulated the fine michine were
deranged qr worn out by perpetual
exertion.* The delineation of this
poor and blighted creature‘3 condition
is 1 given with a painful strength and
accuracy of touch that cannot but take
a deep hold of the reader's sensibility .
But we must rrot dwell on it. During
this wrecked and shattered condition
of her intellect, her husband conceives
the diabolical thought of making her
a participant, in bis practices, 6c thus
pollute |u*r soul, as be bad already
forever destroyed her happiness.
♦ Yet, 4rum the bottom of ny soul,’
says tlie narrative, ‘I believe my poor
Amelia, had she been herself, notwith
standing her mistaken lenity, and
mischievous indulgences of iny cx
,ces£ee, would never, in her rational.
moments, have *hgraded herself by a
; part it: ip tiou in my orgies. At last,
! however, nd by imperceptible de
grees, she fell fro in her high estate,
and .sunk— not indeed to my dead lev
el of measure less brutality—but low
enough to I se herself, and all she
once had been. I will not describe
(lie scenes which my home now present
ed, almost every dav. Husband* wife,
father, mother, children,nil mad; now
singing and laughing; |o\v cursing
and swearing like tin* i*mates of a
mad house,’ The dreadfyl i-siie *>i
these courses mull! not lona be delaj
edj and we shall copy the Recount ot
the catastrophe from the volume itsell.
♦Osieday—lt was an ominous day
—the anniversary of our marriage—
in a (it of savage lnliarity I swore 1
would celebrate it with more than us
u and splendor. I got up at twelve th
preceding night, and intoxicated my
self before, sunrise, when I Went t
bed and slept myself partly sober a
gain before dinner. At dinner I
drank, anil enti cd my poor Awcl;
to follow my example, till the littb
reason left us began to stagger on it
throne. I proposed a toast—Tin.’
wedding day, and many happy re
turns of it.’—A sudden pang seemeo
to cross her'inirid, and produce a train
of bitter recollections. —‘Was it not a
happy day, Amelia,* said I, taunting
ly. She burst into tears aud coveren
her face with her hands for a minute;
then slowly removing them she replied
with a look of agony, that still haunts
me day and night—-Yes, it was a
happy day—but—„* The tone and
look irritated my already infuriated
spirit, burning as it was m liquid
flame. But what*’replied I. ‘Come
speak out—let us have no secrets on
this happy day.* ‘We have paid
dearly for it,* she said; you with the
loss of fortune, fame and goodness.
1 with a broken heart and shattered
reason.
‘And I alone am to blame for
all this, I suppose.’
‘N >; l blame nothing but my own
folly, I bad my warnings, but they
came too late, or rather, as my con
science tells me, I shut my ears to
them. Would I had died,* added she,
wringing her hands, ‘before that mis
erable day.
•i laughed aloud. ‘Poor soul, cried
(‘does it mean to say 1 deceived it?
Pish, vvotnon! did you ever flatter
yourself your weak and silly sex was
a match for men—men of the world—
men of experience?—Pshaw! a wife is
a mere plaything—a—.*
♦A? victim, sighed my poor wife.
‘But what charge uie with?’
Your fortune b gone, said I.
♦ Who was it wasted it for me?
♦ Your beauty is turned to deformity,
you have grown as ugly as the——.
♦Who spoiled it hy robbing me of
rest by night, of happiness by day?
‘You are no longer the gay spright
ly, animated, witty thing that wou
my heart.
♦Your heart, replied she scornfully;
but who was it that robbed me of my
gaiety? that worked my heart & turn
ed my brain? Do you know’ the man,
tlie monster I would say ? Her eyes
now flashed fire as she continued.
♦Do you know the monster 1 say? he
who deceived my youth; wasted my
fortune; destroyed my happiness; de
graded the modesty of my sex and
station, poured liquid fires down my
throat, and heaped coals of fire on the
heads of my children? Who rendered
the past a recollection of horror, the
present yet worse—the future—O my
(jM?
♦I, whom you promised to love andi
obey all your life. Come give me an
Example of your obedience, cried I )
pouring out a glass of filthy liquor,
come* one bumper morej I swear you
shall drink one bumper more to this
happy day—come!’
♦I will not; l am already more than
half a beast!*
‘And half a fool, muttered 1, rising
nd staggering to the oilier aide of the
table, where she was sitting, ‘I swear
, ‘y hell you shall drink it.
♦I swear by Ueaven 1 will not.
♦ Who shall answer for the actions
•fa man mad with drink! Not him*.
< If for he is a beast without a soul;
. .t bis Maker for he has abandoned
uni. A struggle now ensued, during
liicli I gradually became irritated in-
fury. Tin* children clung affrighted
tbout us, but I kicked them away.
My poor Amelia, at length struck the
lass out of my hand; l became fuii
ius as a demon, and threw her from
no with a diabolical force, against the
ornr of the fire place. She fell,
tised herself half up, gave her chil
rrn one look and suuk down again.
Sue was dead.
♦1 am now the sober tenant of a
madhouse. The jury that tried me,
’ would not believe a man who acted
nidi scenes as were proved upon me
. could be in bis senses.- They acquitted
. ne on the score of insanity. My rel
.nives placed me here to pas 9 the rest
fmy days, and recover my senses if
I can. But lam not mad; the justice
; f heaven has ordained that I shall live
while 1 live, in the full perception of
i my past wickedness. I know not
w hat is become of iny children, for no
one will answer my inquiries—no one
will tell me where they are, whether
they are dead or alive. All I can
understand is that I shsll never sec
them more. My constant companion
day and night, w iking and, dreaming,
is my murdered wife. Every mo
ment f nv life is spent in recalling to
i my mind, the history of th tt ill fated
girl, m the summing up of what I
• to answer for to her, her friends and
her offspring. Denied the iml til
i gence of all sorts of stimulants, my
strength is gone; my body shrunk and
shrivelled almost to a skeleton, and
rny limbs quake with the least exer
tion. Guilt grins me in the face; in*
fainy barks at my heels; scorn
points her finger at me; disease is
gnawing in my vitals, death already
touches me with his icy fingers: and
eternity waits to swallow me up, I am
going to meet Amelia.
‘The man to whose charge I am
committed, has furnished me with th©
means of fulfilling this mv last task,
aud making the only atonement in my
power, for what I have done. If
there be any one who shall read this,
to whom temptation may beckon afar
off, at a distance which disguises its’
deformity, let him contemplate me a B
I entered on the stage of life; as 1 pur
sued my course forward; as I closed
or am about to close it forever. Let
him not cheat his soul; let him not for
a moment believe, that it is impossible
lor him to become as bad, nay worse
than I have been. If we look only at
the beginning and the end of a career
of infamy and wickedness, the space
appears a gulph, which the delin
quent has overtept at a single bound;
But if we examine into the particulars
of his life and progress, we shall sel
dom fail to find that the interval has
been passed. & the goal attained, step
by step, little and little, from good to
bad, from bad to worse. The pride
of human reason, may whisper in our
ears*that we can never become like
the wretch whose career we have just
been tracing.—But as poor Ophelia
savs. *we kuow what we are, but we
know not what we may be.’ It is on*
ly to begin as I began; to sow the
No. 3.