way,
and believed him.

"'Strike a gentleman,' says I. 'I'll have your blood, I will.'

"'This instant,' says the Count, who was boiling with fury; 'and where
you like.'

"'Montague House,' says I. 'Good,' says he. And off we went. In
good time too, for the constables came in at the thought of such a
disturbance, and wanted to take us in charge.

"But the gentlemen present, being military men, would not hear of
this. Out came Mac's rapier, and that of half-a-dozen others; and the
constables were then told to do their duty if they liked, or to take a
crown-piece, and leave us to ourselves. Off they went; and presently, in
a couple of coaches, the Count and his friends, I and mine, drove off to
the fields behind Montague House. Oh that vile coffee-house! why did I
enter it?

"We came to the ground. Honest Macshane was my second, and much
disappointed because the second on the other side would not make a fight
of it, and exchange a few passes with him; but he was an old major,
a cool old hand, as brave as steel, and no fool. Well, the swords
are measured, Galgenstein strips off his doublet, and I my handsome
cut-velvet in like fashion. Galgenstein flings off his hat, and I handed
mine over--the lace on it cost me twenty pounds. I longed to be at him,
for--curse him!--I hate him, and know that he has no chance with me at
sword's-play.

"'You'll not fight in that periwig, sure?' says Macshane. 'Of course
not,' says I, and took it off.

"May all barbers be roasted in flames; may all periwigs, bobwigs,
scratchwigs, and Ramillies cocks, frizzle in purgatory from this day
forth to the end of time! Mine was the ruin of me: what might I not have
been now but for that wig!

"I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went what I had quite
forgotten, the large patch which I wore over one eye, which popped out
fierce, staring, and lively as was ever any eye in the world.

"'Come on!' says I, and made a lunge at my Count; but he sprang back
(the dog was as active as a hare, and knew, from old times, that I was
his master with the small-sword), and his second, wondering, struck up
my blade.

"'I will not fight that man,' says he, looking mighty pale. 'I swear
upon my honour that his name is Peter Brock: he was for two years
my corporal, and deserted, running away with a thousand pounds of my
moneys. Look at the fellow! What is the matter with his eye? why did he
wear a patch over it? But stop!' says he. 'I have more