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VOL. 11. I THE CABINET I Jfs published every Saturday by P. L. ROBINSON, fVarrenton, Geo. at three dollars per annum , which may be discharged by two dollars and fifty cents ts paid within sixty days f the time of subscribing. Select t ales. 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.