Martinsburgh gazette. [volume] (Martinsburgh, Va. [W. Va.]) 1810-1825, 1825-01-13
THE WORLD,
IAN the worlds stage,
HAnd all the men and women merely players
Start not, gentIe reader, at the mag

ANA Nif NlG uiNu hnl HUtitl DlAlCI5
Start not, gentle reader, at the mag
nitude of my subject, for none is more
worthy our mutual observation. Ii you
were thrown in to confinement, though
it were of as mean and dlsgrsceiui a
nature as our cherries debtors jail, or
wide and beautiful as tie happy valley
of Rasse las, YOU would make a study OF
its character and extent. This world IS
but an extended prison, where every de-
scription of human beings are compel
led to associate together, and we will
examine what pains and pleasures our
abode affords. Its troubles are very,
very numerous; mostly because we en-
ter il with TOO nigh expectations. Our
domain itself is so extremely beautiful,
that we find it difficult TO believe it con-
tans aught Of sorrow. The dwellings
of kings and princes, which may be de-
nominated their miniature worlds, hold
nothing which can bear comparison with
the sublime palace of nature. Their gol-
den gems are Insignificant when the
stars Shine. and when can they invent a
light so brilliant as the sun, or so beau
tiiul as the sweet moon. What painting
is like the mountain scene, where river
and forest aud sun-bright hill, and rosy
vale, mingle together; and what music
is more delightful than the summer
sounds that agltste the cir. But
no more do the splendors of creation
bestow happiness on mankind than the
gorgeousness of royalty gives content
ment TO the king. We lind ourselves
the slaves OF passions, which are always
leading US astray, and the pursuers OF
phantom hopes, which shine only to de-
ceive. There never lived man, but
VINO was destined to grieve at the iaisl-
ty of some long nourished expectation,
but who wept over the grave of some
fond and delicious hope. The world is
replete with little cares, which no fore
sight can pallate. They are as nume-
rous as the sands of the sea-shore, or
the stars of the sky. They spring upon
us every moment All action is rep!ete
with them, and it is utterly impossible
to spend one single day without suffering
some petty disappointment in word and
deed. Even supposing all external
things aere to be as we wish them. Let
the summer day shine as bright as the
young and merry could desire, be the
breezes full of perfume, and the mo-
ments of joy-let all creation arrange
itself according to our win, SO that the
avaricious may gaze upon his countless
boards, and the ambitious look down
from the dizzy summit OF his & ory, so
that the poet .lay find responsive poetry
in earth, ocean, and air, and the warsi-
or rule over conquered world. Even
in the completion OF our loyeIlest dreams,
so singular is the constitution OF the hu-
man mind, that even then we would find
safety but poor substitute for expec-
taton. We would brood over the mo-
notony of UNMARRIED triumph, and regret
the hours of excited desire. The miser
would remain idle, for bis task would
be accomplished: and the ambitious
would discover that he had pursued a
bubble. The poets vision would be !
valueless, because it was vulgar; and
the warrior would weep for more worlds
to conquer. We may, therefore, be
frraly convinced, that real and unadul- !
terated happiness is not for this world
The king upon his throne has to provide
for the clamor0us wants OF the nation
the poor man in his cottage to gain bis
children bread. The one is engaged in
she horrors of perilous war, and the o.
Their, from the moment when he rises,
unwilling from his slumbers, drags on his
wretched iaoours, minute by minute,
and hour by hour. til, finding oblivion ,
preferable TO the restlessness OF his con-
scioHs existence, lie grasps, joyfuily, at
his Lethean draught, and sleeps again.
Every human being j., at some time
or other, engaged in OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
by he hopes the cup Of his happiness
will be filed nearer to the brim; and ev-
cry adventure is doomed to meet many
failures. He embarIls in his enteprize,
amid all the pc lis with which the ma
riner speeds his way over the ocean; wild
winds are waiting for hun on the distant
dec, and the destroying demon OF the
storm lies crouched in the gathering
cloud, wrapping himself up in his man
tie of gloom, aud the Lightning slumbers
at his side. The rocks, with their huge
brown backs, lifted mistaken in the sui
len waters, are ready for his approach,
and the hungry winds sweep over the
liquid desert, impatient for their prey.
The voyager spreads his broad canvass
TO the gale, that breathes as fairly as the