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VOL. I.
PROSPECTUS
OF THE
Rural Cabinet,
Published in TVarrenton , Georgia ,
By P. L. Robinson.
Are not these woods
More tree from peril than the envious Court ?
And this our life, exempt from public haunts,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running
brooks,
Sermons in stones, aud good in every thing.
Shakespeare.
The Rural Cabinet, as its title
imports, will be devoted more espe
cially to the collection ami diffusion
of s ch matters and things as may
tend to edify ami entertain those who
“ Along the cool sequestered vale of life,
“ Pursue the noiseless tenor of their way.’’
But even the Cit, who has not be
come too mawkish from a surfeit of
politics or the thousand whim whams
a Cit is heir to, if lie should find noth
ing to “ surprise or astonish,” per
chance he may he refreshed with some
of the old things whiih were wont to
amuse, delight or solace hioi in days
gooe-by. As “ variety is the ver)
spice of life,” the Cabinet uili con
tain a miscellany calculated to join
both profit and delight in one, and
present a condensed view of the ini
prove meats in Agri- allure, Com
merce and the Arts, together with an
epitome of the signs and tidings of
the times, religious and political—and
though in regard to the latter we pro
fess not to be neutrals,
“ In all our strictures) placid we shall lie,
As Halcyons brooding on a summer sea.”
Theorgina! department of the Ca
binet will be enriched with the con
tributions of several literary gentle
men who contributed to the late Co
lumbian Cenlinel , and others who have
given assurance* of fliCif f**?dlv
countenance and support.
The Rural Cabinet will he pub
lished, weekly, on a medium sheet, of
good quality, in the folio for n, s >
as to make a neat volume at the cod
of es< h year. The papers of sub
scribers in the county will tie forward
ed by such conveyance as they may
direct, or remain in the office until
called for. The papers of distant
subscribers will he forwarded, by
mail, without delay, (as there are
twelve mails which arrive and depart
from this place every week,) and eve
ry attention will he paid to render
their transmission speedy and regu
iar. Although the Cabinet will be
Issued on a sheet smaller than the pa
pers published in our cities, yet when
the crowd of advertisements they
contain, together with the low price
of the Cabinet . are taken into View,
It will he cheaper than any now
printed in the state.
The annual subscription will he
three dollars, which may be dis
charg'd bv two dollars and fifty cents
If paid on the receipt of the first num
ber*. No subscription taken for less
to ,t twelve “St ritus.
Select Tales.
THE ORA? GIRL.
\ M ariiianne Willis, when beheld
in an attitude of meditation, was as
beautilul a human being as imagin
ation ever drew. Brow, check, lips,
just such as a young poet would de
light to describe, ami burn to kiss;
and her eyelash, with its long dark
fringe, shaded an eye that merited
a whole Petrarch sonnet; and then
b**r graceful form* rounded arm,
and delicate hand, each deserved its
eut >gium.— But a beauty who cannot
Speak, is no more to our intellectual
beaux than a statue. Aud yet,
Rural Cabinet.
where is the great advantage in hav
ing the faculty of speech, if it be only
employed in lisping nonsense? Per
haps the subject has never been con
sidered.—[ wi li it might be pro
posed for a theme , at some of our col
leges; it w f ould doubtless elicit as
many new ideas from the young stu
dents, as a ‘dissertation on the com
parative advantages of Greek ami
Roman literature.*
Maniannc Willis was called th
‘deaf beauty,’ and she was the onl\
beauty I ever knew, who always
turned a deaf ear to her own praises.
Yet she was n t insensible to the ad
miration she raised; the ardent, on
during gaze of those who, for the first
time especially, beheld her, always
called a deeper gl w on her cheek,
and she would cast down her brigh’
eyes, and turn away, exhibiting that
modesty of feeling which is so truly
indicative of the purity of the female
heart.
A person born blind, raises, in the
beholder, few emotions, save pity.
We feel at a glance the helplessness
and hopelessness of the ease. It is
otherwise when we see those who
are deaf. There is usually more an
imation (eagerness parhaps. would
better express vvliat is meant) in th
countenance of such an one, than in
that of a person who can
There is too, a hiliarity in the smile
of the deaf that seems to ask amuse,
merit, not sympathy. And then th
oddity of their gestures, the quick
ness of their motions, the restlessness
of their glances, are apt to inspire a
corresponding vivacity in the mind
of the beholder. In short, we feel
| that the spirit of the deaf one is a
]\vakc, and can hold converse with
ours, and thus it is much less painful
to contemplate a deaf than a blind
person.
But it was always a positive pleas
ure to look on Marianne, or rather
I to have her look on you; she was so
!lo vely, and her features al ways so
lighted up with mirth—it was ti *•
till she turned away, anil you lost Mi
inspiration of tier soul beaming smile,
that the idea of the darkness in which
t lie soul must be shrouded, came over
yours- The melancholy truth then
fell so sorrowfully, that tears, even
from firm men, were often the tribute
of grief fir her misfortune. Tears
—one glance from her laughing eyes,
in a moment disspelled them. So
was as tiappy as she seemed, as
happy H3 she was innocent—she had
never known a single sorrow’, or pri
vation. She had been tended aud
watched over from the hour of her
birth, by the untiring, vigilant and
affectionate care of parents who l iv
ed her a thousand times better for the
misfortune that made their wat< litul
ness so necessary. They had taught
her every thing she could he made
to comprehend concerning her duties,
and scrupulously did she perform
them ; especially in adhering to
truth she was so strict that nev -r,
even in her gayest moments, did a
sign or gesture, intended to deceive,
escape her.
This charming creature, much
more deserving the epithet angelie
than the fine and fashionable b* lies to
whom it is so often applied, lived in
the retirement, then almost solitude,
of one of the western counties in the
state of New-York. Till she was
eighteen, she had never been out
of sight of the house in which she wa**
born. About that time Marrianne,
to the oft repeated and urgent re
quest of her aunt, was permitted to
visit her and spend a few weeks in
Albany. Her* beauty and naivete ot
her air, were so exquisite, that hei
Warrenton, .lime 14, 1828.
• emu e, >l. ■>. iirew, in ilio prole ot
her heart, could not resist the tempta
tion of introducing the sweet girl to
society, and aocompany hm* to places
of amusement, although Mrs. Drew
had promised she would do neither.
M.vs. W ilis had enjoined on her sis
ter, not to indulge Marianne in pleas-*
ures, which, as she did not know ex
isted, she did not n quire to make
her happy; hut should she once taste
them, tho remembrance might give
her a disrelish for those simple enjoy
•nents tliitt had hitherto made her
bliss. Perhaps it will bo thought
her parents did wrong to allow her
to go to Albany, ami visit in the fain
ily of a fashionable lady. They al
ways blamed themselves. And yet,
why should they? When people act
from a sincere motive of doin t g what,
on the whole, they deem right, amt
expedient and calculated to give hap
pitiess to others or themselves, should
a disappointment of these expecta
tions involve self-reproach? I think
not.— Wo tnay regret misfortune—wr
should feel remorse only for guilt;
>lrs. Drew should have f.-p remorse,
for she was guilty of violating her
word—hut she always excused her
self from all blame, saying, ‘Who
would have thought just going to
half a dozen parties, and a few balls,
ml once or twice to the theatre,
could have b en productive of evil
co fc qiiences?’
At. the theatre, Marianne attracted
the notice of Captain Hall, a young
naval officer, who was on a visit to
some friends in Albany. He was
astonished, almost annihilated by the
charms of the deaf girl, and determin
ed to see her again. He was a gay,
and thoughtless, hut a generous as
well as warm hearted man; and the
pity he felt for the misfortune of the
girl whom lie was pleased to style
‘divine,’ augmented his passion. Yet
lie never dreamed of marrying her—
that was entirely out of the question,*
hut he wanted to look upon her, to
talk about her, and to cjngr >BB. if pos
sible, h’T attention. 14 •w is not ac
quainted with Mrs. Drew, bit as his
r*l vtives were among the Honorahles
of he n ( y, ao introduction to her
was very easy—Sire was quite as
much flittered by tbe bow, and com
pliment he made her on his first visit,
as lie was iiy the blush arid smih*
Marrianne gave him.—Thus th*y
were mutually pleased, and he contin
ued to call daily, and accompanying
Miem in tli**ir walks, and to their
parties, always contriving to take
toe hand of Marrianne, and who
would suppose lie co.dd relinquish it
wit 'ut a pressreu? the only way in
which he could express a tender com
plement.
Marianne did not, at first, seem at
all pleased with his attentions; and to
flatter her by the usual modes, was
impossible. She could listen to no
praises of her beauty, taste or mind— —
but she could feel gratitude for kind
ness *s; and unfori unately ascribed to
the kindness of Hall, the opportuni
ties she now so often enjoyed of visit**
ing pl-ices of amusement, and she was
thankful for his attentions; and it was
not long before, when he pressed her
hand, he felt the pressure returned.
Mrs. Drew could not but notice
the change in her niece. From being
cheerful, and testifying pleasure and
interest in all she saw, she began to I
droop, and be melancholy, except in
the presence of Hall. She watched
f>r him when absent, she met him
with unrestrained joy; and yet she
would blush and be offended, if ralli
ed concerning him. It seemed she
Sad an idea that her love for him
must be as secret as it was sacred.
Mrs. .Drew saw all tins and yet sfi6
took no measures to prevent Captain
flail from associating daily with her
ucice.
At the expiration of a month, Mr.
Willis came for his daughter, but she
refused to accompany him home, and
the uneasiness she testified when lie
urged her to go, made him suspect
Something besides the attractions of
bet* Hunt's lutuno induced her wittl* to
tarry in Albany. After some inqui
ries, so pointed and particular Mrs.
Drew could not evade them, the father
discovered the cause of Marrianne’s
tears and emotion. Mr. Willis was
a plain farmer* but a man of good
sense, and some acquaintance with
•lie world; and moreover, be had a
thorough knowledge of his daughter’s
disposition, fie knew if she could he
convin ed that there was no truth in
Uie heart of the mail she thought lov
ed her, or at least, that he would pay
the same attentions to any* otlu r girl*
whose beauty happened to please him,
Marianne would renounce him at
omoo. M*. Williu, thori'fiirr, waited
on Captain Mall, and frankly told
him the mischief his thoughtless
gallantry had caused, and asked of
him, as a man of honor, to make the
reparation of undeceiving Marrian*
ne. *1 admire your daughter’s beau
ty and disposition.’ said the impas
sioned young man, ‘could she but
speak, I should prefer her to any wo
man on earth.’
*Yet, as she never will speak, you
have no intention id’ marrying her,’
replied Mr. Willis cooly, ‘I ain not
intending to upbraid you, sir, any
more than myself and sister Drew.
W e have all been to blatne, and now
that dear Innocent child, who is as
free from guile as an infant, must
suffer. It is to shorten the term of
her uneasiness, that I ask you to un
deceive her. The pang of know ing
she has been deceived, site must en
dure.’
Captain Hall changed color so
many time’s, and in spile of his ef
forts, betrayed, so much agitation,
! that Mr. Willis was convinced his
daughter was not the only sufferer—
yet as he knew the young soldier
would never marry Marrianne, in
deed lie would not have consented
that lie should, he deemed it his
duly to insist that he should not bo
left in any doubt on the subject*
Capt. Hall, at length, agreed to what
Mr. Willis proposed.
A party was made at the house of
Mrs. Drew, and while Marrianne
watched, with a feverish restlessness,
the entrance of every visitor, Captain
Hall made his appearance, escorting
two very fine ladies. He attended
and talked to them all the evening
paying no attention, except by a die*
tant bow, to Marrianne. The next
morning her.eyes were swollen, and
her cheeks pale, yet she insisted on
starting for home. Her Father con
sented. As they drove out of the
city, they met Captain Hall, in a
carriage, w r itb one of the ladies he
escorted the evening before. Mari**
anne hid her face as soon as she re
cognised him. He turned pale, as
lie noticed the action, and stopped
his chaise as if to speak* Mr. Wil
lis, with a motion of the band, and a
look so determined, yet melancholy,
that Hall dared not disregard it,
bade him drive on.—The carriages
passed, and Hall and Marrianne ne
ver met again.
No allusion was ever made by
Marianne, concerning her lover
and her parents hoped she would a
gain enjoy the simple pleasure of
home, and forget the disappointment
she had suffered.—But the charm
No. 3.
