more cruel and oppressive than the laws which
but a few years ago attached the penalty of death to the commission of
almost pardonable offences. Society, with the acquirement of other
useful knowledge, has learned to appreciate the iniquitous folly of
murder perpetrated in cold blood, without the slightest excuse. The
nation which above all the countries of the world takes credit for
adapting its laws to the requirements of a rapidly advancing
civilization, has had courage to inquire why the savage vestige of an
exploded system should still dishonor its history and interfere with its
social progress. Duelling, as part and parcel of the national manners,
has ceased in England. No doubt random shots will yet from time to time
be heard, and weakness in its despair will occasionally seek refuge in
cowardice, which it mistakes for valor; but the mind of the majority is
made up. Duelling henceforth must be the exception, not the rule. Public
opinion will harmonize with the law, and honor it. It will protect the
injured, and hand over the offenders to the legitimate consequences of
their own misdeeds. It will not call upon a man first to endure wrong,
and then to lay bare his breast to the bullet of his aggressors.

"Our fathers were less fortunate than ourselves in this respect. Their
dilemma was fearful. The law took no account of those delicate injuries
under which sensitive honor pines, though no bruise or wound appears to
indicate the mischief; and, in self-defence, refinement set up the
bloodiest code brutality under the guise of chivalry could imagine or
invent. A quiet gentleman, sitting from morning till night in his
library, interfering with the pleasures and pursuits of none, amiable in
every relation of life, a stanch friend, a fond husband, a devoted
father, as useful a member of society as you might find in a day's
journey, and obnoxious only to political opponents, who fear him more
than he dislikes them, is called a 'liar,' a 'coward,' and a 'heartless
ruffian.' He is nothing of the kind; he is proudly conscious of this
fact; his accusers do not even believe it; the world--that portion of it
in which he moves--is satisfied that he is a remarkable instance of
truth, of courage, and extreme tenderness of spirit. The revilers have
made a great mistake or committed a disgraceful outrage. In either case,
since they are not amenable to law, you would think they might safely be
left to acquire better information and i