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MS tie a I Cabinet.
f()L 11.
T IIE CABINET
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Miscellaneous.
FROM THE BOWER OF TASTE.
A SHO P STORY.
I was at Waltham a few evenings
since, and heard all about the • Ghost
Story’ which has gone the ‘rounds* of
the papers recently. A person wh*
sat near me gravely ventured to ex
press his utter disbelief in *superriatu
ral apparitions and agencies,’so call
ed, which elicited from me (who am
alb it not given to the story tclliog
mood) the following tale.
In the year JB2-, I was a midship
man in the U. S. Navy, stationed at
Norfolk. living been absent from
my friends for a long time f requested
and obtain and permission to visit them
on the furlough. Before leaving tin
place, 1 stopped at a perfumery store
kept by a w ithered old man, who look
ed more like Sbakespeare‘s apotheca
ry than any other being I hd ever
•een or imagined, and purchased as I
thought an elegant cut glass Dottle of
Eau de Cologne for three and six
pence. 1 proceeded to the stage oftr e,
arid found the stage on the eve. of de
parting: as 1 hurried into it. my foot
slipped, and endeavoring to recover
my lost balance, the bottle fell upon
the pavement and was shattered into
a thousand atoms. In a moment the
Coach was rolling rapidly along the
street, and the trilling loss was forgot
ten. My compagnon de voyage prv •;
very stupid fellows, and the vehid
itself whs execrable; so much so, th<
ore I ‘had proceeded many miles
heartily wished myself at uiy jour
neys end The wish was no sooner
Conceived than 1 found myself on t o
green lawn before the door of my fa
ther's mansion, more than a thousand
miles distant. It it impossible for un
to express the astonishment which 1
felt at that moment; 1 could hardly
believe inv senses; 1 rubbed my eyes,
looked round me, threw ont my arms,
shouted, wept and ran about like *
wildiiian, till 1 became so exhausted
that my limbs refused to support ine.
1 then sank upon the ground, and cri
ed out iu agony, oh Lord! oh Lord!
under what dreadful illusion am 1
laboring? how Caine I her* ? I am
mad, stark si ring mad; then l shout
ed again, tore my clothes and my
hair and heel I been a real bedlamite,
Could not behave more preposterous.
In unfolding my pocket handkerchief,
a neat little bot le fell at my feet;
•why, this , said I, ‘is surely the identi
cal bottle which I bought this morning
at the perfumer's at Norfolk, I au>
dreaming, lam mad!’ Then 1 ran a
bout again, halloed, shrieked, laughed
aml wept alternately till the whole
f-mily came out to me. They spoke
all at once end asked ten thousand
ques ions without giving me time t >
reply. | gained the house with sunn
difficulty, related nv adventure t<
them, and asked their opinion ot i<
*My dear boy, * said my lather; ‘y<
are not well, 1 must send fur a pnysi
cian to prescribe something !ur you
go to your chamber, you seem quit
fatigued and have need of rest.’
obeyed kim and was soon in a genii*
Wares# .t lecem 19. 1829.
slumber. The arrival of die dot .or
awoke me, he felt my pulse ami asked
a few nuestions, then taking my pa
rents aside whispered with them and
retired. In about an hour a parriage
drew up to the door, and in nediatciy
after the doctor with two attendants|
came into my room,* they ccrifined me
in a straight jacket and conveyed me
to a mad house, where I wis ordered
to be fed with the simples; food and
very little even of th at, 1 remonstrated
in vain, and endeavored t> convince
them that I was under the charm of
necromancy (for 1 felt certain that
was the case) Dut it would not do, my
cruel keepers threatened to <\>nPioe me
in the lower cells if I continued my
useless entreaties. 1 had been confio
ed here sometime without any better
diet to subsist on than bread and wa
ter, before 1 entirely disp tired f pre
vailing upon my inflexible ty rants to
release me. The Mi of a stidden,
when I least had hope, I wa freed
from my unenviable situation, Mud
how do you think it ame about,’ en
quired L of the group, which had col
lected ai ound in* ; some could riot im
magine, some guessed one way, some
mother; ‘why,’ said I, to relieve your
curiosity I will inform you 1 awoke,
and found myself in the aaiii old cra
zy vehicle whi h l mentioned in the
ftegioning, with the farce of the *Bot
le Imp’ in iny pocket, wliich I had
read the preceedinar evening.’
DOUBLEYOU.
FROM THE DOST >N STATESMAN.
WHEEL TO LIVE.
VV hen l am yours, now, I*ll tell you
what yoi! tiomst do
Don't.
Y s—l*ve thought of it a great ma
ny times.
Well—what i,s it?
You must take nie—only you and 1
done, you know—to a little green
Island in the sea—where it is always i
summer; where the wind is always!
c 1 and mild—where the skies ar-‘
always blue—and the flowers are A
ways bright—and where every thing
is pleasant.
Ami t will add -where love increas
es with time, and where time never
ends —what think you of ilia'?
Better yet. But will you go?
G —yes, with all my heart. Here's
a man of the wrld Let us look.
Look to the Pacific sea—l always
like to think of the islands in the sweei
and sunny P tcifi , with their linden
groves, and beautiful agate skies.
So do I—Pacific, by all means; tho*
there have always been associations in
uy mind, between the Pacific waters,
and a dull, very grey unspeakable
tinge of inrlancholly monotony; but
since you like it, 1 like it of course.
Here is the island of Jum Fernand z.
But we sliould'nt be alone then !
No we Bhould'nt—here's the Ork
ney, the Society's, and a dozen more;
but all that we shall find on the map
are inhabited probably.
Yes—we must go to the sea and
find it ourselves. I only want you
to go, and 111 go too. 1 don't lik*-
this world, and this race of brings
there are so many ugly ones, so many
that don't care any thing about any
thing but money, that. 1 can't bear it.
1 wish I could get away in my sleep
and be put on just such an island 83 I
told you about,
But how could we live?
I sliould'nt care so much about
ing, if you were there to die with ine
|,Ht would be better than living here,
Hiy way.
Generous creature! suppose we go
tnd drown ourselves! that would t:e
tine-look out a clear brook with a
glittering saudy bottom, and green
* ; . ‘
bilsn -s Hanging down from the shady
banks—l think it would be fine I can‘t
hear to think ol the grave -the hot and
pestilential vapours that breathe for
ever there—the dark, and unbroken,
and unmoving cloudiness .that sits
va ii lll n it—the horrid and slow decay
give me drowning-the teeth of a shark
—or fire.
I think so, too. If we have the fire
before death we shall not need it after
to purify us.
Purify us—you have never sinned,
iny love, never—you are proper to be
transplanted incarnate, to the purple
and sunny place of heaven—fit to
stand up with the best of them—you
would escape detection in the rank of
angels; and if I was ready to die I
would let you g >; and die iny self; and
go after you.
WrU are you not ready to die?
No, my dear—some notes becomes
due in two or three day s, and I want
to get.the money.
What‘ll you do with it?
I'ake it along with me--it will leave
less of tiie root of evil in the world.
it will. Men really seem to me
like a fl • t of sharks thrown upon the
sani- always uneasy grasping after
molt -more -more. No one is conten
ted.tho* he have the wealth of the An
desJ without a ‘little more.’ What
makes the bird, away, in the dim blue
distance upon the bosom of the sky,
stilf ply her fitful wings? She wants
more happiness—more novelty: What
causes the swimming dweller in the
sleepless ocean, to wake up from its
suiiit halls, and steal away, swiftly to
strange and distant waters? It wants
more—more dominion. All ‘want mote
—in whatever situation iu life we are
placed, however we have been eleva
ted from the lowest degradation to the
highest exaltation, we are not content
ed—we expect still nioFe, and are
only happy when circumstances tend
ing to increase our gl >ry or our en
joy went are in the train of fulfil meat.
Weil, now, those remarks are vastly
sensible, between you and 1. But do
they not apply also to our case? Might
we not be happy enough in our pres
ent condition, if we vv >uid think sot
True—we might, if i* w .s possible
to tin rite so. The begg-.r in lus lags
may think himself as happy and *sj
great as the monarch on his throne—l
it only consists in coiitr *liug toe im
agination, and making it subservient
to circumstances.
Let us then, control our fancies. I !
don't think on the whole, that it would
5e pleasant to live on a desolate isl
and
Non L E.
TIME.
Time is the most undefinable, yet
paradoxical ol things* tlie past is
gone, the future is not come, and the
present be< oues the past while we at
tempt to d’ fine it, and like the flash of
lightning at once exists and expires.
Time is the measurer of all things, but
is itself unmeasurable, and the grand
disc Insure of all things, but is itseli un
disclosed. Like space it is iucompre
licnsible, because it has no limit, and
would be still more so, if it had. It is
iiure obscure in its sources than the
Nile, and in its termination than the
Niger, and advances like the slowest
tide, but retreats with the swiftest tor*
rent If gives wings of lightening to
pleasure, but feet of lead to pain* and
lends expectation a curb, but enjoy
ment a spur. It robs beauty ol her
charms to bestow them on a picture,
and builds a monument to merit, but
denies it a house; it is the transient
and deceitful flatterer of falsehood,
but the tried and final Iriencl ot
troth. Time is the most subtle, yet
most insatiable of depredators, aud by
appearing to take nothing is p m.i ed
to take all, nor can it be satisfi and • ntil
it has stolen the world from us, und us
from the world It constantly fl*es,
yet overcomes all things by flight, and
although it is the present ally, it will
be the futuro conqueror of death,
Fime, the cradle of hope, but the
grave of ambition, is the stern conque
ror of fools, but the salutary counsel
lor of tho wise, bringing all they need
to the one, and all they desire to the
other; but like Cassandra, it warns
us with a voice that even the sagest
discredit too long, and the silliest be
lieve ton late. Wisdom walks before
it, opportunity with it, ami repentance
behind it: ho that lias made it hn
friend, will have little to fear from his
enemies; but he that has made it his
enemy, will have little to hope from his
friends.
ON DEATH.
Some have stileo this certain, hut
at most times unwelcome visitor, the
King of Terrors, when lie might, with
less impropriety, have been termed the
Terror of Kings. The Poet has lent
his fictions, the Painter his < 010?’“, tho
Orator his tropes, to portray He ,Ui as
the grand destroyer, the enemy, the
prince of phantoms and ot shades.
But, can he be called the destroyer,
who, for a perishable state, gives us
that which is eternal? Can he be styled
the enemy, who is the best friend o I)*
of the best, who never deserts then nt
their utmost need, A whose fricudsop
proves the most voluble to those who
live the longest? Can he he termed
the prince ot phantoms and shades,
who destroys that which is transient
and temporal v to est ablish that whi U
al me is real and fixed? And wliat re
the mournful escutcheons, the sable
truplii s, and the melancholy insignia,
wiib wlin h we surround hi n *h ** se
pulcnral gloom, the mouldering ar
cane and the slimy worm? fuese, in
deed, are tin idle fears and emp y ter
rors, not of the dead out of the living,
l'ne dark domain of Death we dread,
indeed, to enter, but we ought rather
to dread the ruggedtiess of some of the
roads that lead to it. But if they are
rugged, they are short, and it is only
those mat are smooth that are weari
some aud long, ftut p rliftps he sutn
i uions us too soon troiu the feast of life.
Be 11 so; if (he exchange be hot for tho
belter, 11 is uot lus lauit, but our own.
or be suiutuous us laic--the tali is nt
-1 tner a reprieve than a sentence/ for
who would wish to sit at the board
when lie can 110 longer partake ol (ho
banquet, or to live on to pain, when 116
ha long Ucen dead to pieaSUl’ ? Iy
rait is can sentence tueir vi tints to
death, but h more dreadful
would oe their power could tiiey sen
tence them 10 lit ? Life is the g .ater
of the soul 111 uu filmy prison, arid its
only deliverer is Death; vviiat we call
life is a journey to Dealt*; and w iafc
we call death is a passport to Life,
! True wisdom thanks Death fot* what
he takes and still more tor what ho
brings. Lei us, therefore, like senti
nels, be ready because wc are un er
tam, and calm because we are prepar
ed. There is nothin g formidable a
boiit death but Hie < 01. sequences ..f it;
I tt n(j mese we can ours* ives regulate
and control. The shortest life is long
enough if it lead to a better, ami the
longest is too short if it do not.
Alt persons indebted to the estate o
Richa.d Heeth, late of Wilkes couuty,
dec. are (equested to come lorward and
settle the same without delay, an 1 those to
whom the estate is indented are desired to
present their accounts, prop rly attested,
within toe tune pre-tnbed by law
HeNuY It Hill 1, Adin'r.
November 31,
No. ‘>B.