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VOL. 11.
THE CABINET
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FIRST AND LAST TICKET.
From the Manuscript of a condemned Criminal.
** Curse the ticket I* was my first
exclamation on leaving a lottery of
fice, into which 1 had been to lo*rn the
fate of my first ticket . Would that it
bad been the last! would that in curs-
Irg I had forsaken them entirely! Had
I done so, now, perhaps, I should not
have been here—ray wife and my boy
ury pratling David, would not have
been mouldering in the house,
1 might have been happy—have been
unstained by the blood of my fellow
creature—Oh, well may I curse the
ti< kets! They have bound me down
with a curse—even a death curse!
My first ti< ket was a blank. I was
persuaded by a friend to buy it, who
t*pled me by holding up to view the
glittering prize and exciting my hopes
of obtaining it. 1 was not disappoint
ed at the result of my purchase, al
though a curse involuntarily burst
fromy lips when I first learnt it. I
hardly thought of drawing a high
prize; yet the possibility of being so
fortunate kept my mind in a constant
burning excitement. I was a young
man then, and could ill afford to lose
the cost of the ticket; However 1
comforted myself with the r< flection,
that experience must be paid for, 1
also made a determination that 1
Would not be so foolish again. I kept
unoroken for six months. Yet “ try
again — you may be more fortunate.'’ it
v s the whispering of my evil genius
—and 1 obeyed it. I bought part of a
ticket and drew five hundred. I had
previous to this, being in a good sifii
tinn and with every prospect of doing
“well in the world, engaged inystll to
Eliza Berton, a young lady who had
long possessed my affections. She
was one no, I will not, I can
not speak of her as she wus. Well,
shortly after to my good fortune—l
should sav misfortune —1 married her,
I was considerably elated with my
lurk, and treated my friends, freely.
I did not however, buy any tickets at
that time though strongly urged to.
One evening, after I had been married
some months, I went out to visit a
friend; intending to return in the
course of hour. On the way to my
fri*nd‘s house I passed a lottery office.
It was brilliantly lighted up, and in
the windows were temptingly display
rd schemes of chance and invitations
to purchase. I had not tried toy luck
since my marriage, and had. given up
hying tickets. As 1 passed by the
wind w of the nflice my eye caught the
following, in illuminated letters and
figUf* gift,ooo PRIZE WILL BE
UEAIU: riioM THIS NIGHT. TICKETS
&5.” i hesitated a moment, then
Widked or—‘who knows but what 1
may get it ?’ 1 said to myself. I stop
ped—turned about still hesitating—
• t v again,* I heard, and retracing
my steps 1 went into the office. A
tiu.ihe r ot my acquaintances were sit -
tu g there smoking. The vender gave
a cigar, and after a while asked me if
I should not like to try my luck in the
lottery which he was expecting rve y
ui Muciit to bear from; his clerk having
gone out to await the opening of tin
mail. So saying he handed me out a
package of quarters, which he prevail
ed oifme take, and pay twenty liv*
dollars; the price he sold them at.—
The cleidi soon after came in with
-of the draw ing; and 1 left the olli<
that evening, one thousand dollars’
better off than when I entered. Bo
where for? For home? INo—-f’.r the
tavern ; all went for a treat.—At mid
night, I went home to my anxious,
sleepless wife in a fit of intoxication
This was her first experience.
#‘* # #
A week went by, and Fd'.za began
to smile again. The excitement 1 was
in that night she admitted as an rx
cuse for my conduct. But she tender
ly advised me, nay on her knees in the
stillness of our chamber, e’tery night
she implored G<d to hove me iu his
keeping— to preserve me from tempt
atimi. 1 was ashamed of myself; and
I solemnly swore to sustain allogethei
from tickets. My wife was herself
again. Months passed away;—a
ciiarge was entrusted to my keeping—
a holy charge, i was presented with
a son. He took his fathers name.-
Thank God! he will not bear his sor
rows—his shame! I was happy as man
need be for a year. Busimes pros
pered—l enjoyed good health, and
was blessed with a happy home where
all was peace. 1 said 1 was happy—l
w 7 as at times; hut there was a secret
thirst within me for riclms—for the
filthy lucre of the world; and yet 1 was
not avaricious—nor was 1 paisimoni
ous. But the desire had been awa
kened—-the hope been discouraged,
that, by venturing a little rnu< h might
be had; and although my lottery gam
filing, yet a burning thought of gain—-
of gain by lotteries—agitated me day
and night.—ln the day time when a
bout my business, the thought that by
venturing a few dollars 1 might draw
enough to make me independent of
labor—to allow me to live at ease, \as
uppermost in my mind; and every
night 1 received a large sum of prize
money. 1 strove to banish such <! ■
sires from my mind; but they haunted
me like an evil spirit.
About eighteen months alter taking
my oath, a grand scheme was advertis
ed to be drawn on a certain day in my
own town. 1 felt a strong propensity
to try mv luck again. 1 was impor.
portuned by friends to buy tickets—
the scheme was so good —the chance
of success so great; but I thought ol
the oath l had taken and was firm in
my denial. The day of drawing drew
nigh. The vender who sold me the
prize urged me to take a few tickets—
-1 was also urged by others to buy
even in the presence of my wife. But
I resisted. She, trusting one, said
not a word—she knew my oath was
pledged—she knew that 1 remember
ed it, and sh had confidence in try
keeping it sacred. She only g?ve a
glance of pleasure, it may be triumph,
as she heard me refuse my friend*** in
vitations. That night I dreumpt that
a particular number would he a fortu
nate one—l purchased it, and it came
up to the highest prize. When I arose
in the morning my firmness was a lit
tle shaken. it was the day of draw
ing. A friend came info my store ir
rhe forenoon and showed me a para I
of tickets; amongst them 1 saw the
number of my dream ! lie offered
them to me— I forgot myself—l mock
ed my God—l broke my oath I dni
not stay in the house at noon any lon
ger tl an to hurry through with din
ner. My wife‘s presence was a bur
den to me; her happy smile discomfit
cd me, and her cheerful tones went to
mv heart like a reproach. From that
Warrenlon, Mav 8, 1830.
| day her presence was a curse to rne—
not that i loved her less—not that she
had changed —but how could I stand
before her perjured as 1 was, and she
liie w hile not doubling my innocence—
how enuid 1 without feeling my uulio
lines-? A thousand times that fore
moo did l resolve to seek my friend &
return him the ticket, and as often did
I break them. Conscience smoto heav
ily. But the prize, thought I, will
cheek it. Fool to think paltry gold
would reconcile an offended God—
would buy off punishment! The lot
tery was drawn that afternoon. That
evening 1 sat alone with my wife in
her room. She was talking of the
folly of some men, in not being con
i tented with what they possessed, and
| for being ever on the search for more.
many hearts have been agitated
—wound up to tho highest pitch this
afternoon iu hopes of drawing a prize,
said she. What could 1 do? 1 was
there, and had to listen to her, altho*
each word seemed like a burning coal
at my heart. She continued—“And
how many have spent that, which
should have gone for bread and cloth
ing for their families —and for what?
For a vain hope of obtaining more! for
a piece of mere coloured paper! And
think you my hnsband thq£i has been
vows violated—no oaths broken this
afternoon!* Good God! how this tor
tured me ! I made no answer, and she
went on, “ if there are any such, and
if they have been unfortunate, how
keen must be their disappointment,
and how doubly keen their remorse!
Are you not David, better pleased with
yourself this evening for not buying
tickets—allowing you had not pledged
your oath tot to meddle with them—
than you would have been, had you
purchased money by it? Thus did the
woman tali to me, as though l were as
pure and guiltless as herself, Inno
cent one! She knew not. tit at the
moment her words were like daggers
to my heart —that at every motion of
her Ups my soul writhed in agony—
she knew not that my pocket book was
rammed ivith tho cursed tickets—
blank tickets ! And when she poured
mi her soul in prayer that night, she
knew uot that him for whom she pray
ed dared not listen to her words, but
stopped his ears. So it was.
• # • •
“ Do, my dear husband, stay at
home one evening this week! You shall
read to me, or 1 will read to you; come
keep me company this evening. Thus
said my wife one evening, as she took
me affectionately by the arm, a tear
at the same time filling her eye. Brute
that I was! I shook her off repulsively,
scarcely deigning her a reply as I
went out. I was an altered man—
my innocence had departed from me—
l * had perjured myself. My oath
once broken, I still continued to break
it. Not a lottery was drawn but that
( had some chance in it. 11l luck at
tended me. Blanks—blanks were my
portion. Still I kept on. Most of my
hours were spent iu lottery offices, 1
neglected my business—debts accu
mulated—wants coine upon me; and I
had nothing to satisfy them with but
a hope —a hope, that at the next draw
ing 1 should be lucky. As cares in
creased l went to a tavern for relief.
Remorse gnawed at my heart like a
worm. It had drank up all my hap
piness. When 1 first broke my oath
I thought gold would still be my con
cience. Gold 1 had none, so I attemp
ted to ease it by strong drink. Rum
burnt my tender feelings—my better
nature; but it only added to my
quenchless fire that was raging at my
heart. It was not uncommon lor me
at this stage, to get intoxicated every
night. Oft have I staggered home to my
patient dying Eljza—foi my conduct was
making sad intoads on a constitution nat
urally delicate, and without a shadow of
cause fell to abusing her. Merciful God
forgive me. Even while she wa-* on her
knees at prayer— prayingfor me l What
insult ami misery has not that woman en
dured ! and all brought on by me, her
husband, her protector ! About this time
our child died. I dare not think of lies
death—how it was brought on. The poor
child might have lived longer—perhaps
he might—but he complained us being cold
sometimes, of wanting clothes; and some
times his cry for bread was v.tio It was
a great shock to my wife; and her gradu
al failing day by day sobered me and made
me thoughtful. But what had Ito do with
reflection ? The past was made up ol
sharp points and when I turned to it 1 was
pierced! and the future—ha! ha ! what,
what could I anticipate! what Was there
in store for me? 8o I (dosed my ears—
shut my heart to the starving condition of
Eliza, and became—a brute again!
• * # # * *
It was in the evening of a wet, cloud
day, that 1 sallied forth from my boarding
hovel to shame and sin, to learn the fate
of my last ticket. The woman with whom
I boarded was clamorous for mv payment.
That night I told her I expected to realize
something. This was my last ticket. To
obtain it, 1 had to dispose of a Bible,
which belonged to my late wife— my Eli
za—and which was the dying gift of her
mother. It was the last thing 1 held that
belonged to her. One by one had I dis
posed of what little effects she left, to
gratify my passion for drinking and gam
bling, I had lost all feelings of shame.
My wife had been dead two years. I)u
----ringher life for her sake I was not entirely
shunned—for her sake some respect was
shown me. But when she was taken away,
anu when her friends found 1 did not re
form, they abandoned me to my fate, and
I became truly an outcast -an outcast
from the society of the virtuous. I blame
no one—it was my own laul . I wa* ad.
V?ed—urged by all that wa- dear in life—
by my wife‘s dying prayer—by the hopes
and fears of an hereafter, to restrain iny
vicious propensities and to walk in the
paths of virtue. But I would not hear to
them—l laughed them to scorn. 8o they
left metomy atubborness.
The ticket 1 now had was to seal my
fate, i had lasted more than one day to
obtain means to purchase it; I had even
siainted my drink for means, so stiong
was my passion for gambling. Well, 1
went into the office and called for the prize
list. At a glance I saw my hopes weie
frustrated; and crushing the list convul
sively in my hand, I muttered a deep oath
and stalked out of the office. That tick
et indeed sealed my fate. “ The world
owes me a living, and a living 1 will have!’
1 said to myself, as I turned away with a
despairing heart and walked up the street.
My mind was suddenly made up to st
strong purpose. There is money!’ I said
between my teeth, as I sauntered slowly
along meditating some desperate deed. I
knew not the time of night—it was late
however, for the stores were all closed,
when a man brushed by me. As he pas*,
sed 1 saw it was the vender of ti.kets—
the man who sold me the first and last
ticket! the man to whom l had paid dol
lar after dollar until all was gone. He
had a trunk in his hand, and was probably
going home. This man, thought I, has
received from me even to the last farthing
—shall 1 not be justified in compelling
him to return a part? at least, ought he
not be made to give me something to re
lieve my misery—to keep me from starv
ing?* Such was my inconsistent reason
ing, as 1 buttoned my jacket, and slowly
followed him. Before reaching his house
—he had to pass over a lonely space
where there were no houses, and at that
time of the night but little passing. He
had gone over half of this space, when I
stepped quickly and unwarily behind him;
and grasping with one hand his collar and
with the other his trunk, in a gruff voice
demanded his money. The words were
barely uttered before I was grappled by
the throat. He was a strong man, an<j
No. 4t>