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ihirttf Cabinet. VOL. 1!. THE CAIILYET Is published every Saturday by 1\ L JlOlil VSOJY, IVarrentou , 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 . Advertisements conspicuously inserted at seventy five cents per square for the first insertion, and fifty cents fir each subsequent insertion Monthly inser tions charged as new advertisements. Advertisements not limited when hand ed in , will be inserted until forbid, and charged accordingly. >a.> l ,u.. l r.r.. r~ar 7 - Vr-n —i--&&n —— --&& FROM THd TALISVI VN F It 1 830. I'll ft WHIRLWIND. [The following is an extract from a Tale entitled ‘Toe Whirlwind,’ from the Talisman, for 1830. %Ve will not anticipate, or mar, the interest of the book, by quoting the narrative entire. Mr. Herbert is on one of his thousand and onejournies-this time to the eoun try beyond the Alleghanu*s—where he falls into the company of an equestri an gentl-m mi, in the gar > and charac ter of an itinerant, hut intelligent Baptist Treacher. We commence in the midst of the rolloqu* ] •A*. Y. Com. Advertiser. Your friends probably live in that part of the coun ry,* said 1 availing myself of that freedom of interog itiori of which he had set me the example. ‘Friends, if you will, answered he, <1 may have there, but relations none. —There lives not in all the United States, tho* they are my native coun try, a single human being, with whom I ran claim kmdered. God has cut away, by a terrible, bu% as l willing ly believe, a merciful dispensation, all the tics of an earthly nature that bound me to my fellow creatures; tin members of tbe Church of Christ, and they only, are now my fathers and mothers, and sisters and brothers. 9 *Yoii allude, I perceive,’ said I, *to some r markable event of your life. May I rake the liberty of inquiring what ii is. ? ’ ♦Formerly, he replied, ‘itgavome pain to speak of i-; but l have related it often, and it does so no longer; and, moreover, 1 am cpnvitr ed that it is sinful on my part to wish to conceal the dealings of Gud-s providence with me, from those who are willing to hear what they have been. ‘You must know then that my fa tlnr was a native of the island of Nantucket, and the only son of an emigrant pm* from St. John3* on the coast of N -wfoundl mil. My mother was from Wales, feoe was but a child when her father took passage for this country, with her and two broth ers older than herself. The vessel in which they came, was wrecked off Cape Coil, and all on board perish and except my mother and four ol the crew, who were picked up by the fish ermen of Hyannis. Sue was received ; into one of the most wealthy families j on the Cape, and was brought up by the good people as it she had been one of their ow n children. ♦My father had been a seafaring man in early li’-e; and had risen to tin* command of a merchant vessel. At the age of thirty five he became ac quainted with my mother, who was some fifteen years yonger than him self, and made her prop .sals of mar ridge, wliic.lt- she would accept only on condition that lie should quit the sea, which had be n she grave ot her lam iiy. lie made the promts- she requir ed; and r mov. and to tin* interior, where my fa!her bought a form, and s ’ ‘ as an agrn ulturalist. . . , • Out residence was on the highlands •vest <f Connect! nt River. lucre Wf.. littlr doc.yed ol.:i dw (fcerp: h i’- W down, VVarrcMion. iHo-ember 5, 1829. and had a neat. Whit • co-.i.ige buii upon the spot.—ln this cottage was I burn, and here I.pissed the e n-lmsr years of my life, and, speaking wish respect to temporal comforts’ and enjoyments, the happiest. It was a lovely spot, lovely then, bn now no lungers—it is bare and desolate—the besom of destruction has isw *pi itr-the winds. G ul*s ministers. | were sent against it, to raz i its walls, ami root up its shades, and slay n-s inmates. ♦1 sometimes think that the distinct I cess with whi h that abode of mj J youth and its dear inhabitants rise i before my imagination, is a devi e of the enemy to tempt me, and to shake my resignation to the decrees of the Almighty. A Yotiogor hard shelter ed the cottage, on the northwest, ami ha-, kof the orchard rose a wood and hill. On the south side of the lion a was our garden, which bordered on e clear prattling brook. To the eas were ri h meadows and fields of grain, and pastures where 1 gather and straw berries and looked for birds’ nest*;, all sloping away gently for a consid eraule distance, after which th<*y sunk down out of sight into the deep glen of a river, w hose shallow murmurs were often heard by Us as we sat un der the wild cherry trees before om door; T i the east of the river spre m a wide tract of country, in full ssglr from our windows—farm houses pain ted red and white, with their orchards and comfit--Ids and woodlands, steeple of distant churches, and a blue hori z hi of woods bounding the scene, •Time went by pleasantly until my tenth year. Childhood is the only season of life in whi h happy years do not pass away swiftly. They glide softly, but they do not lly, and they seem as long as they are full of enjoy mem. 1 had an elder sister, Jan-, just arrived at seventeen; a tall straight blooming girl, who had been my ins'ructress in all childish pas times, and procured for me my child ish pleasures. She tang st me wher to fiod the earliest blossoms and th< sweetest berries, and showed m where the beach shed, its nuts thicken when it. felt the October frosts, ami led me beside wild streams in tiv woods, and read godly books with m *. and taught me to sing godly hymns <> Sundays, under the trees of our orch ard. There were two brothers, twins, five year-* younger than rnys-lf, t* whom 1 now p-'rfor ned the same of ft and beautiful creatures they wre if I can trust my mein ry, as ever were sent into the vv odd to be re call and in the bud of life; fair, round faced ruddy,good humored, full ot a perpetual fl w of spirits, and in lo k. gesture and disposition, the exact copies of each other. And as they were alike in birth and mind, and outward semblance, so they were a like in their lives and in their deaths not divided. I was their constant companion, and sometimes our sister, who had n>w grown to maturity, would leave her sed to occupations and join our sports. ♦My mother was of a delicat frame, and a quiet and somewhat sad turn of mind. The calamity by which her family bad perished, made a deep impression upon her, and disp >sed liei heart to religious affections Her eyes would sometimes lilt with tears, as slo* looked at us mi the midst ol our pastimes, and she would olten niiiuly check our boistrous mirth. She was our rliAtechist, she made us read ou. biblcs and taught us our little hymns and prayers. ♦♦My father was, it was thought, an uureg. n. rate person, hut he was wh . the world calls a good umjal *?ai/ * i utich respected by his neighbors. He wts ol an even quiet temper, never exhilirated by good, nor greatly de pressed by bid fortune, I do not recollect ever seeing him apparently; bet er pleased than when his children were noisiest in their play, when he vvild sit looking at us with great mi>p a me s and tell our mother how mueli tie was like us at our age. He w.-.s what is called a silent man.* he sad but little and indulgent a9 lie was, ’bit little was a law to us. The neigh *'“hood also treated him with defer *u e; his opinion was consulted in all diffrult cases; lie was made town leik, and then sent a representative to 4ie General Court; am! finally received a commission of the peace. “My lather, as I have already told you. was originally a seafaring mm.-; 1 md his profession had made him fa miliar with all the appearances of the O” averts. To his knowledge of this kind, a< qmred on the ocean and coast f the Atlantic, he now added that gained by h daily observation of tbe aspect of the heavens in the interior, until lie became celebrated in those oarts for bis skill in discerning the face of the sky. He was looked upon as a sort of oracle on the subject of the weather; aod his predictions were reverenced even more than those of he almanac. It was not always that n opinion could he extricated from •ini, hut when obtained, it never failed if being verified. His hay never got wft while lying green on the ground, ;njr do I believe that he was ever • tertaken by a shower in any of his excursions from home. H would pass w hole hours in gazing at the sky md watching the courses of the clouds. An observation of the weath er was his first business in the morn ing, and his l*st at night; and if the manly placidity of his temp r was ev er on any occasion disturbed, it was only when the weather was more ca prieious than ordinary; when it refu ised to conform to fixed rules, and jailed to fulfil the promises it held forth. In this I think In* was wrong, ts que* toning the providnce of G 01, 1-x. r ed in the great courses of nature; i,,;. who is without his errors? ♦ • The country in which we lived was tigh and hilly. * The streams by which it was intersected, flowed in deep, narrow glens, unpleasant from their chilliness, shade, and mists at morning and evening; and the farms ad dwcl lings lay on the, broad elevated coun try between them. —Thus an ample sweep was afforded for the winds, which blew over the country with as little obstruction as fin the summits ot mountains; The snow was often pi led in the winter to the roofs of the houses, and you might see orchards rn which every tree leans to the south west, bent and made to grow in that position by the strong and continued gales. * .. ♦♦ln the last year of my residence in this pleasant abode, we bad, about the setting in of summer, several weeks of uncommon beat and drought. God sealed up the fountains of the firma ment, and mad the heavens over our heads brass, and the earth under our feet ashes. —Clout.s floated over the fiery sky, and brought no rai; the atmosphere was filled with a dull, dry liize, as if the finer dust of the ground had risen and mingled with It. Out of this haze, the sun emerged at morning and again dipped into it at evening hiding his face long before he reached the horizon. The grass of t e • < erased to grow, and became thin and \bite and dry before it ripened, and iMed mournfully whenever a i f air passed -over it* l |* e ,r< 8 hirped feebly in the trees; the cattle lowed faintly in the in adows, and gathered about the moisture spots of soil. All this while the winds scarce ly blew, or but softly, nor with strength enough to detach from the cherry trees, before our door the loose leaves that put on the yellowness of September, and dropped of their own accord, one by one, spinning round as I they descended to the earth. I had never known my father so uneasy and fidgetty as at that period. He would stand for hours considering the aspect of the heavens, and even after the twilight was clown, he was out by tho door, gazing at the hazy canopy tliro* which the stars dimly trembled. My mother, in tbo meantime, called her children about her, and taught us a prayer for rain. •♦At length came a day of more per fect calm and stillness than we had experienced, even in that season of calms. The leaves on the trees were so motionless, that you might al nost have fair ied them vvrougut of metal, to mo k the growth of the vegetable world. I remember feeling unoa&y at the depth and countenance of that si lence, broken only by the gurgle of the brook at the tioi to in of our garden, where a slender thread of hatred wa ter still crept along, the sou id of which fell on cny ear with a painful distinct ess. There was no cloud, not a speck, nothing but that thick whitish haz *, to be seen in all the sky. My father went often during tbe day and stood anxi usly looking at tbe at mosphere while I silently rrep oc ir him with my two little brothers. There was something in his in mn r that made us afraid, tho* of wha \v* knew not. My mother, too, appeared s dd r than usual. Once, when m> faitier return ed into the house, he told h r that this was just such weather as had pre ceded the waterspout tht overwhelm ed the fishing boat off the coast ot Cape Cod, thirty years before, and drowned all on board. *‘l fear greatly,* s-id he, that some mischief is brewing for us nr our neighbors; but 1 hope, at least, that it will steer clear of all our houses ♦♦The night at length arrived, and no evil had as yet come nigh us or our dwellings. My mother saw us all in our beds, and made us say our prayers; and bade us good night, in that mild, iff*- tionate voice, which l shall never f *rgei; but for my part, I ould not sleep, agitated as I was with the vague and awful apprehen sions with which ny farther's looks and words, and the strange appearan ces of nature, had filled rny inind, and which were struggling to clothe them** se|v<-8 with images. Sleep at length fell upon me, a deep sleep, and with it brought the visions of the night. I imagined that the profound silcnco was suddenly broken with strange and terrible crashirigs, and masses earth and portions ol sky were ming ling |aud whirli g over each other; 1 awoke witn my limbs bathed in sweat, and t was long before my fear would suffer me to move them.- When the usual current of hiy tensa lions was restored, I was comforted to find my self still in my own l.tmiliar couch, though in the midst of utter darkness, and that awful lifeless si lence, so deep that I could hear the clicking of my fathers watch in tbo next room. •The sun rose as usual the next day, and the same calnin and silence con tinued. My own apprehensions had passed away with the night, though I observed iny father watching tho cloudless hazy sk*es with the same air of anxiety. About twelve o’cl ick l was in the or hard bark of our < otuge {QonMti on the fourth page.) No.