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VOL. 11.
I THE CABINET
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JJ.YSiIJiLK’E.Y s TIIIIEE WISHES.
At a small fishing village in Dutch
Flanders, there is still the site of a
Jiut, which was an object of much at
tention, while ir stood, on account of
a singular legend which relates to its
first inhabitant, a kind hearted fi How
who depended upon his boat for sub
sistence, and on his own happy dispo
sition for cheerfulness during every
hardship and privation. Thus the
story goes:—one dark and stormy
night In winter, as Jen Shalken was
sitting with his good natured huxoiu
wife by the fire, he was awakened
from a transient drze by a knocking
at the dm or of his hut. He started up,
drew bark the bolt, and a stranger en
tered. He was a tall man, but little
could be distil guished either of his
face or figure, as he wore a darkloak
whi- h he contrived to pull over his
head in the fashion of a cowl.
*1 am a poor traveller,’ says the
stranger, ‘and want a knight*s lod
ging_will you grant it me?’
‘ Ay, tube sure,’ replied Shalkan.
but I am afraid your cheer will be
but, sorry. Had you come sooner
your fare might have been better.
Sit down, however, and cat of what
is left.’
The traveller took him at his word
and in a short time afterwards re tin
to his humble sleeping place. In tin
morning as he was about to depart,
’ he advanced towards Shalken, and
giving him his hand, thus addressed
him:
is needless for you, my good
friend to know who I am, hut of this
he assured, I am, and will be grateful;
f, r when the ri h and the powerful
tu .* cl me Ist night from their gates,
you welcomed me as man should wvl
come man, and looked with an eye of
pitvonthe desolate traveller in the
g form. I grant thee three wishes—be
they what they may, those wishes
6hull he gratified,’
Tsfow Shalken did not put much
faith in this promise—perhaps he
looked opon it as Southerners do upon
a New England trick—it might be a
scheme to derrive him, but at all e
vents he thought like a prudent
Dutchman, it was best to comply and
arcordingl) began to consider how he
should fix his wishes. Jan was a
man who had few or no ambitious
views; and was contented with the
way of life in which he had been bro*t
up—bad he lived in these times, and
in this country, he would, probably ,
have asked for the privilege of strik
ing into existence a big canal, or he
might have asked for an improvement
in rail roads, or a steam engine, or
gome such matter; buts it was, he
thought of nothing of the kind, In
fact, he was so well satisfied with his
life, that he was not in< lined to loose
a single day of his laborous existence,
but on the contrary had a sincere wish
to finish life as he had begun it,
unknowing and unknown, and even to
add a few more years to his existence.
‘Let my wife and rn> sell live sis y
ye; rs longer than nature has deslin
®d!’
‘lt shall be done!’ said the stran
ger.
Whilst Shalken was puzzling his
‘Main for a second wish he bethought
War ronton, ,1 u y I i
himsetf t a pear tree, which grev. i;.
his little garden, Had been Ir querUh
despoiled of its fruit, to the small and
rimenr of the saiu tree, and to tin
grievous disappointment of the own
er.
‘For my second wish grant th
whoever climbs my pear tree, /*
not have power to leave it uiHtiuigt
permission is given.’ Tuis was air
assented to,
Shalken was a sober mat;, an ! liken
to sit down an i chat wait las wile of
an evening; hut she was a bust|i la
dy, and often jumped up in the irnds
of a conversation that she had <>nlv
heard ten or twelve lines, to scrub th
table or put their c lay platters in order
Nothing disturbed him so muc h as
this, and he determined, if possible, to
prevent a recurrence of the nuisance
With this object in view, he approach
ed the stranger, and in a low whisper
told him liis third and last wdsh—that
whoever satin a particular effuir in his
hut, should not be able to move out of
it until it pleased him so to order.
The wish was agreed to by the travel
ler, who after many greetings, depart
ed on his journey. Years passed on,
and his two last wishes had been fully
gratified by often detaining thieves on
his tree and his wife in her chair. It
happened that the birth day of the
fisherman and his wife were the same.
The time was approaching when the
promise of Longevity would be fulsi
field or made manifest. They were!
siting together on the evening of the
y that made him seventy nine years ;
ud Meitje seventy—three years of
ge, when the moon that was shining
rang t e hut, ami the stars rush and
down the dark clouds &laj glarii g n
la. * oi he ocean, over which was
pread an unnatural calmness, al
iiougli the skies appeared to be inas
ered by the winds, and were heaving
in ward with their mighty waves of
luuds, Birds dropped dead from the
iouds, and the foliage of the trees
urned to a pale red. All seemed to
prognosticate the approach of death;
nd in a few ininuio afterwards sure
Hough he came. He was, however,
different from all the worthy
couple had heard or fancied of him.
He was certainly very thin, and had
little colour, but he was well dressed*
and his deportment was that of a gen
tlernan. Bowing very politely to the
ancient pair, he told them that he mere
ly came to give notice that by right
they belonged to him that day, but fifty
j ears respite was granted, and wiien
that period expired he should visit
them again. He then walked away,
and the moon, and the stars, and the
water, regained their natural appear
ance. For the next fifty years every
thing passed on as quietly as before;
but the time drew near for the appoint
cd event of death. Jui became
thoughtful, and he felt no pleasure at
the idea of the intended visit. The
day arrived and death came preceded
by the horrors as on a former occa
sion.
•Well, good folks,’ and he made a
low bow, y>u can now have no
objection to accompany me, for assu
redly you have hi- her to been highly
privileged and have lived long e
nough.*
The old dame wept and clung feebly
to her husband, as if she feared they
were to be divided, alter passing a
uay from the earth on whi* h they
had dwelt so long and so happily to
get her, Poor Shalken also looked
very down ast, and moved after death
but slowly. As he passid by Jan‘s
garden |/e turned to take a last look
;•.} jt, when a sudden thought struck
! him. He called to death and said,
5> ■' avow me to p opose some-!
thing to ye ii — our jonrm*y i, I n
■ ivtmlwe h ive no provisions, I am
•oo infirm or 1 would inti yonder|
pear tree and uke a stock ofits b st
u.t with us; you are active and o
liging. and will, lain sute get it for
us,’ ILmi!?., with great condereo
s o. cc up!ied, and ascending t!ie tre>
gathered a great numb r >f pears,
,ift n he threw down to Sltalken and
is wif\ A. length he determined
pon def ending, but to his surprise
>d apparent consternati mi, discov
red that ho was immoveabl j nor
vould Jan alLvv him to leave the tree
until he had given a promise of living
another half rentury.
They | ggrd on in the good old
way’fifty yeirs more, and death came
to the day. lie was by no means so
polite hs he had formerly been, for
he trick, that Shalke n had put upon
him, offended his dignify ami hurt his
pride not a little.
.‘Lome, Jan,’ said he, ‘you used me
very scurvily the oilier day, (death
thinks very little of fifty years!)- I am
determited to lose no time—t ome.*
Jan vvis sitting at a little table, bu
sily employed in writing, win n death
entered. He raised his head sorrow
fully, and the pen trembled as he thus
addressed him;
‘I confess that my former conduct
* towards tou merits blame, hut I have
done witji such knaveries now, and
j have leaijned to know that life is bui
lit tie work, and that I have scene
; nougii of it. Still before I quit this
world I should like to do all the good
I can, .-nd was engaged win n you ar
rived m treking a will, that a poor
lad who has been always kind to us,
may reieiv this hut and my boat.
Prav sit down, and in a few moments
•>
my task will ue ended.’
Death thus appealed to, could re
fuse no longer, and seated himself hi
* c ui, ft* m wi.i< ii he tumid it as dis
fin oil to rise as it hud formerly been
to Uescepd from the tree. II is liber4
tion w&s bought at the expense of an
additional fifty years at the end oi
w:m!i period and exactly on their
nirth day, Jeu Shalken and bis wife
died quietly in ;h ir bed, aud the salt
water flowed freely in the village u.
which they had lived almost long e
no ugh to he parents to its whole in
habitants.
FROM TIIE BALTIMORE EMERALD
DUELLIST's THERMO ME TER.
“Pluck, up drowned Honor by the locks,’’
There must be a strange combat of
feeling in the bosom of a Sportsman.
who is about driving a bullet through
his adversary’s skull, or receiving
one through his own. The ebb and
flow of passion—courage and fear;
honor and shame, each struggling io
pull down the other, while conscience
galls tb e whole. I have often won
(jered how if man possessed of every
quality that could make him beloved
by society; blessed with the affections
of a lovely wife and the endearing car
esses of his little children, could forfei
the first, and forever blast the sweet
mss of the last, for the sake of tht
which the world calls honor:— ‘a mer
escutcheon,’ which mus> fall to tin
dust with the the stone that bears it.
The question is, ‘What are th
feelings of a duelist? I shall firß
suppose the Challenger to be seatet;
by hinrelf like an ass between tw<
stacks of bay - He plat es his pen, ink A
paper bt fore him, writes a letter, tbei
reads Cato‘s soliloquy on theimraor
tality of the soul; his bane & antidote i
j before biru i.c. bis pistol and bis bolUe
Me , rites again, and stops; repeats
Fal st fT* soliloquy on honour: con
ludes hi-* ‘trim reckoning’ by writing
a few unmeaning iine-i, starts up
muses; and reasons with himself thus:
•I will venture! for, if I challenge, two
to ooe we do not mee’* if we meet, ten
to one we. de not fight; if we fight, ten
to eleven I ;un missed; if lut, ten to
one I am not killed. -Firty to one;
who will refuse such odds?’
The Cliallengec received a notice at
five o’clock P. M to meet the challen
ger at five the next morning. He
reasons with himself on honor, in
nearly the same terms as his enemy;
yet theirjfeefings differ,—His can, on
ly guarded by a thermometer, which
the read* r will be so good as to ima
gine placed upon his heart. It will
range thus. At four o’clock P. M.
when he is in hopes of receiving no
challenge, courage up to ’spirit boil,*
at five, a sudden fall down to ten de
grees below zero; at nine, gets drunk
io drive away gloomy thoughts, forty
degrees; at twelve goes to bed, down
to zero again; From twelve to four
A. M. dreams of bullets, flints and
h fir triggers, broken legs, graves and
olfi s, still raging between zero and
ten degrees; at four, gets up; a
thought strikes him that the police
flu its nay be on the watch, or that
the courage of the challenger may f fil;
lhen rises to fifty degrees. At live.,
goes to the ground, and, alas! behold
nis * iicmy—sinks to zero again. Poor
f How *oo officers, no kind friend to
i .tvrfer-! He takes his stand,
scan ely knows what be is about.
The word is given, ‘One!’ (live de
gree) *<w.>r (ten degrees) ‘three
Mer ury freezes!—but, a parley takes
piece, *nd the matter is made up.
A sudden rise to seventy.fi ve de
grees. BENEDICT.
—w 1 i ■
FRoM THE NK” YuUK AMERICA!*,
TRAIT OF HEROISM.
In the i te explosion of (he s/earn
Frig it<, which lias cast such a gloom
over* our city, the mind seeks |lmost
in vain for a single incident, upon
winch to dwell with complacency;
We *ee in it b;*t one scene of bl a< k
u qoaliti* and and solution—a shattered
w ei k. the ? nly remn *nt of what
ore Arts the pi i le of human ingenui
ty. o lies mangled, bloody, sundered
ae; lisp rsed, —sole vestings of the
m anly forms which but a few moments
before thought, and imved, and a ted
—the noblest work of a Divine intel
ligence; a mother refusing to recog
nize the blackened and distorted
features of her son; a wife departing
Irantic from the corpse of her hus
band;*—a detail to disgust, a scene to
inspire horror. Even the exertion*
f the veteran commander and his of.
ficers, however actively render and, wo
look on but as mere obedience to duty,
or at best, to the sympathies of ordi
nary humanity* was there not want
ing one instance of stern and unmov
ed endurance, of extreme suffering,
worthy of all admiration!
Those who have visited the scene
■f disaster, or are familiar with its
details, know that of the fearful list of
Killed and wounded, a few were driv
• n piecemeal by the concussion itself,
whilst a greater number were crushed
. neath the descending fragments of
* A worn n waiting on the bridge, and
anxiously examining the dead and wound*
and aa they went ashore, at length saw the
.nutilated body of her husband passed o
er the side, and only kept together by
ue clothes; she uttered oi e piercing
hnek, fell on the neck of the woman who
c >up*med her, and was carried away io
a delirium.
No. 5.