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Mile s’til CaMmet. VOL. If. THE CABINET | Is published every Saturday b }\ j, HOBIASO.Y, fVarrenton , Geo. at three dollars per annum , which may he discharged by two dollars and fifty cents if paid within sixty days of the time of subscribing. Advertisements conspicuously inserted at seventy five cents per square for the first insertion, and fifty cents for each subsequent insertion Monthly inser tions charged as new advertisements Advertisements not limited when hand ed in , will be inserted until forbid, and charged accordingly. jjitn —~i- - mmmmmem s'-uiu .’i.e American Traveller. The Wandering Red Man of the Miami . Arid oft, as Gvening‘B sh; (!e fell od the plain, An aged Red Man met the Hunter‘s gaze, liisttti it>g intently to the night bird‘s . strain, Or musing o‘er the deeds of by gone cLye; Serming, in lock, a man of care and grief, To whom no change save death) could g vo relief. A tail, athlttic white man, as the sun sunk 8? wiy behind the western forest shade, was seen to enter a lonely cabin, upon the woody shores of the Miami) lot he had l ardly thiown off his hunting appara tus, b fore the horrid war-cry of the bloody Sioux struck upon his ear/ and soon a numerous band of that ferciouos tribe branded like startled deer through flail burner of hss dwelling. Here, howi ver, they met with an un friendly reception/ for soon the shaip re port * f the II unter‘6 rifle, announced the departure ( I one red chieftain spirit to the hunting-grounds of die blest. ‘J hey then bound him and departed to wards the setting sun, and on the evening of the succeeding day, drew near to the village of the tribe. Here they halted, at and sent a deputation forward to inform the chiefs of their return There imme diately returned, and soon the whole par ty brgran to move. The whippoorwills plaintive note was heard from ihe other-’ wise silent wilderness, as the village ex hibited a long dark rovy of swarthy old mn, squaws and children, who lined both sides of the open trail: and upon see jng ihetr well known friends screamed out with horrid yells; One singularly dressed equaw, (Hie wife of the fallen chief, tore handfuls from her uisshevelled locks, while she laid her flesh open to the hone, with a sharp instrument, howling throughout the operation, the death song of the Sioux Troops; not upon seeing the white hunter, as he run the gauntlet, she caught a hatchet from the hands of a young warrior, and gave the victim a deep°wcund on the thighjt then pressing the crimson fluid to her lips, she retim ed the instrument-to its owner, and sh*k inw her finger at the hunter, v i'll a hollow laugh, entered a neighboring logdc, while the hunter was conducted to prison. A* e the first rays of morning gleamed upon the hills, the hunter saw through ihe cre vices of his prison, numerous* swarthy chieftains moving am’.d (he vistas of the forest towards the council tire efiho 11 be. Half an h(-r more passed, and the lum ter, tortured with suspense, turned fiom the openings in his apartment, anil threw himself upon the boughs of ph.e, “huh composed his bed At that instant he heard a rustling ontside. and immediate ]v a window opened, from what hereto fore, appeared to him to be so!id log-, thn ugh which a young Indian n aiui n* tertdT She at once with a sharp kmfe. severed the withes that confined hisarim 41 and set them at liberty. She placed lie? band upon her breast,and lifting In re\ es. uhile a deep sigh burst from her bps, sflib jn ihe hunter‘9 tongue, *i he Sioux chiefs have doomed three to te burned; but ihe Sicux maiden love* the pale chief. She has set him at liberty w h the pale, in return, let the Light live ut> £is wig-wauH* ‘G-ul knows f -.vill,’ cried the hunter, in ectacv, ‘The pale chief will not he, like i he French dogs.* Ti is enough,’ tried the maid. Then tuning,she blew a small iom!, and soon dine sav g s ei tend, bcarirg ea h a k i.apsatk, pun, and other equipments tor a match. She poii ted to a heap ot dry drift weed, which die savages’ quickly auv ed, and hai ii<d the hunter his tiusty litie. and a knap>atk well lind with pro visions. Jh oy then assisted the maiden to climb to the window, and she was soon safe on the other side, followed by the hunter and the Indians, who sttuck off in to a lonely and tugged trail/ and were soon far from the Sioux lodge. And when the evening shades settled down upon the leafy forest, they reached a Chippewa village. Here, upon declaring themselves to a French Jesuit, who married them, they were received wi th open arms by the chiefs, who gave them a beautiful hut on the borders of a pleasant stream, and bade them live in safety. The white man soon became a favorite with the Chippewa chiefs, and one morning, against the wish* PS of this loveley wife, joined a hunting expedition towards the west; Three tedious weeks rolled away, and naught was heard of the little hand/ but on the evening of the Ift day of the 4th week, an Indian runner, breathless with haste, entered the village, and soon com municated to the maiden, the unwelcome news of her husband being captured, and doi med to deaih, by a party of her incens fdnation. She spoke not but stood mo tionless for a long time/ then, as though a sudden rey of hope had dispelled the melancholly forebodings of her imagina tion, she departed towards die West, with the utmost secrecy/ aud in the course of the rnxtday stood on a h'gh ascent, which overlooked the village of the Sioux. Loud war whoops now fell upon her ear, pending hack the watm blood to her heart. She Jnokcd again towards the village, and perceived a prisoner led out, and bound to the horrid stake. She uttered a faint scream, sod darting down the hill, with the rapidity of the eik, entered the circle, and ihievv herself upon her husbands neck, “ The squaw of the pale chief, will die . with iwin,’ said the maiden, in answer to i her husbunti‘3 reproof tor seeking him. The eyes oi the painted warriors glis tened with the tears of admiration, at this token of love; but their heaits were soon changed to stone by the hoarse voice of their chieftain, commanding them to eing the war song of the Sioux, as he advanced with his lifted tomahawk towards the pris oner. For a moment he gazed upon the huntei‘s features, and then with a horrid denunciation, let fall the glittering hatchet —but the maiden sprang forward and re ceived the blow.—-Then with an angelic smile, she pressed the hand of her hus band, and fell lifeless into the arms of her agonized father. The chief cast one solitary look towards the remains of his once lovely daughter, then bidding the 1 hunter depart in safety to the larfd of his ! fathe?s, he busied his bead in his blanket, and was ltd by the young warriors to his lodge. ; 1 lie hunter, after shedding tears of deep sonow over ihe Light Fawn‘s grave returned to the settlements * I the whites on the shores of the Atlantic, while the Sioux Chief wandered forth upon the banks of the Miami, an unhappy in mac. And oft in after years, as the whites passed ly a lone hut, on the banks of the Miami,, ot evt ning’s silenthour a strange red man j with hi.', flesh torn by the sharp tl ores of j die thickets, and pointing towards a lock; ofiiivtii iiair, which hui:g by his Mile, then, uttering h hideous yell svould bound J into the gloomy forest, startling the rav-j enoue wild t from her prey, and ieav mg the s • angers to pursue their loute, unable 1 to Icf.i n wluu he was save that he bore j among th w liite hunters .tire nppt liation j 1 r.f the Handcimg lied Alar: of tac Miami.; But at length, an aged rqu.dtc r passed I aUmg, an.d w as recognized by me chief as! his son in law, 1 fee chieltaii)‘s icason returned, as he led Ihe hunter to ins hut; and there they bud) lived, and hunted the] red jJeor over the pranes of ihe West; or fished ler tho silvery sstrrcir, iu o*9 wa-j Warrenton, Hay I, 1830. .tors oi the neighboring river. While vis j R |,; g this ancient hut, some few years i since, this manuscript was found by J. E. D. Frpm the Constellation. WHO IS A GENTLEMAN ? 1 lie answer to this question, among Americans, depends generally upon the condition, feelings and particular mode of thinking, of those who under lake to answer it; and consequently, he who is very much of a gentleman in the estimation of one person, is no gen tic in ait at all in the opinion of an other. A gentleman, in the estimation of mine host, is one who calls freely for all the good things appertain ing to the bar, the wine cellar and the table, pays his bill punctually, w ithout disputing the items or the pri ces; and speaks of flattering terms of every thing about his landlords pre niises, from the beds in the attic to Betty in the kitchen. With waiters and ostlers, a gentle man is one flush of his cash; who after, having paid their master as much as their services are worth, pays them four times their value into the bargain. —“ Mabsa Dash,” says Cuftee, he be ‘one real gemman: he gib me half a dollar for brush his boots, tree quarter dollar for hold his boss, and whole dollar for collin’ him gemman. And he be a first rate gemman—no mis take. A gentleman, with Dolly, the cham bermaid, is one who says a soft thing to her, praises her looks, compares her cheeks to the demask rose, her lips to red cherries, eyes to the planet Ve nus, and her waist to an hour glass; and who to prove the sincerity or his soft nothing, gives her occasiually a sly kiss, a gentle squeeze of the baud, and a bright silver dollar. A dandy<B estimate of a gentleman, is based o<. a foundation peculiarly hia own. He is not a creature who has any thing to do with money, sense, feeling, flesh, or blood. He is wholly a facticious animal, made up by the tailor, the seamstress, the cordwaincr, the hatter and the corset manufactur er. Ho is to be sure, a creature that walks, talks, and eats; bud he does all these from no ordinary motive. He walks merely to show his gentlemanly figure: he talks only because ho never thinks—and he eats for the same rea son that his tailor uses padding, viz: to fill out his propos tions. With a duelist, he is no gentleman who refuses to fight a duel. He may enact as many villainies as he pleases; lie may seduce the weak, betray the confiding, cheat the honest, and mur der the uninteresting—all these do not detract one whit from his gentlemanly pretensions. But if he refuses to stand up and be shot at, he is no gentleman* Having complied with this requisite, he is a gentleman every inch of him, adultery, treachery and murder to the contrary notwithstanding. With “good society ” people, he only is a gentleman, whose ancestors !we 1 e gentlemen before him- Who can enumerate a long line of forefathers | and foremothers; or who according to the idea of Franklin, left off their red 1 woollen shirts and lirisey woolsey pet jtifoals, at least one generation sooner ; loan their plebeian neighbors. In short, in the opinion of good ‘society’ ;ihc term gentleman has bo reference [to \\ hat a man himself is, but to what I his ancestors have been, Wilh the gay Miss who never breaths freely except in the atmos j phci e of folly and show, a gentleman !is or.t who exerts himself to promote her wishes; who gallants lit rto thea- Uitj&i b&JIs and sjeigh rides; who neg- ; lects his busir<eßs to aticiM • he-, a* musements; who spends his mei> to advance her pleasures; who in a woi r f is pretty much, if not altogether, a la dy *s man. But with th young ldy*s n-iidin aunt, a staid gentlewoman of f v ty, th* gentleman is still different per sonage, He is the essence of resp- 1 1- ful attention; and does not indicate by word, look, or action that he suspects her of being older than she whs once, or that he prefers the company of younger Misses With old ladies of Revolutionary times, a|gentleman is < ic who wears a ll ree cornered heaver; has his l air tied behind, aid powdered all over; and Ins shirt ruffled at the wrist; who wears short small clothes, and long waistcoat with pocket flaps; who wears silver buekles that reach from side to side of his well shaved shoes; who walks with a gold headed cane; and who in his manners, neglects no item of the ceremony of olden time. The pit-a pat heart, of a susceptible girl of sixteen, tell her that a gentle, man, is a tall fellow, with a fine mili tary cap on his head, a blue coat turn ed up with red facings, a sword by his side; a neat pair of whiskers, a mean, tired step, and a * How do you do my (harming Miss ? You are the loveli. est creature 1 ever behelu—opon my soul you are ! ’’ M iss Phillis too—she has her gem man; And he be brack a mart, trait as a lamp post, will witc teeth, roily eye, shiny skin, flatty foot, plumpy lip, broady nose—a nigger who wear a read coat, be de color what it wih; who fiddle lice Polio, dance like Frcn li man, make two free bow in a minute, and say “ O lodrly Miss Phillis, your unpalatable beauty hab set my heart on fire. O glue pot!” Among fox hunters a gentleman is a fellow who can leap a five barred gate, jump a twenty foot ditch, thread the windings of a forest at full gallop, smell the tract when the hounds are at fault, be the first at the death of Rey nard, dip the brush in a bowl of punch and drink the washing of fox tail. With a country housewife, he is every bit of a gentleman, who praises her domestic accomplishments; extols her cookery, admires the neatness of her house, and pats the heads of her children; who prefers molasses to su* gar in sweetning 10 flee; eats sour bread without a wry face; despatches the worst article on her table with the best relish; rises at the crowing of the cock—cashes his face at the pump, instead of disarranging her ewer arid basin, which are kept tor show. A sailor*s gentleman is a bit a of tar. He is a man who can box the compass; knot, splice, hand reef and steer; who can run aloft with the nim bleuess of a cat, and keep his footing ori a rope, as fearless as a spider in his web. Who recks little wheter he sleeps in his hakmmock, or on the round top, or at the bottom of the ocean; who fears neither storms nor billows, nor a hostile sail; who cares uot a groat lor money—whoso hand is even open at the cry of distress; who loves hie wife next to his ship; cannot abide a fellow, who comes in at the cabin win dow; hates meanness, and dispjseg a land lubber. In the opinion of some, no man i9 a gentleman who is not rich; and his gentility is accounted exact propor tion to the number, quality, and value of his houses lands and stocks. in the estimation of others, no mao can be a gentleman, who does not keep his carriage, live in splendour, and makes a good deal of show. But it would be endless to enumer ate the different opinions, which go tp %o, 4