myself
squeezing the hand and winning the heart of the fair Mary Anne, I was
merely making a case of strong evidence for a jury, that might expose me
to the world, and half ruin me in damages. There was but one course
open--to make a fight for it; and, from what I saw of my friend Mark
Anthony, this did not seem difficult.

I accordingly assumed a high tone--laughed at the entire affair--said it
was a "way we had in the army"--that "we never meant any thing by it,"
&c. &c.

In a few minutes I perceived the bait was taking. Mr. Fitzpatrick's west
country blood was up: all thought of the legal resource was abandoned;
and he flung out of the room to find a friend, I having given him the
name of "one of ours" as mine upon the occasion.

Very little time was lost, for before three o'clock that afternoon a
meeting was fixed for the following morning at the North Bull; and I had
the satisfaction of hearing that I only escaped the malignant eloquence
of Holmes in the King's Bench, to be "blazed" at by the best shot on the
western circuit. The thought was no way agreeable, and I indemnified
myself for the scrape by a very satisfactory anathema upon the high
sheriff and his ball, and his confounded saucepans; for to the lady's
sympathy for my sufferings I attributed much of my folly.

At eight the next morning I found myself standing with Curzon and the
doctor upon that bleak portion of her majesty's dominion they term the
North Bull, waiting in a chilly rain, and a raw fog, till it pleased Mark
Anthony Fitzpatrick, to come and shoot me--such being the precise terms
of our combat, in the opinion of all parties.

The time, however, passed on, and half-past eight, three quarters, and at
last nine o'clock, without his appearing; when, just as Curzon had
resolved upon our leaving the ground, a hack jaunting-car was seen
driving at full speed along the road near us. It came nearer and at
length drew up; two men leaped off and came towards us; one of whom, as
he came forward, took off his hat politely, and introduced himself as Mr.
O'Gorman, the fighting friend of Mark Anthony.

"It's a mighty unpleasant business I'm come upon, gentlemen," said he,
"Mr. Fitzpatrick has been unavoidedly prevented from having the happiness
to meet you this morning--"

"Then you can't expect us, sir, to dance attendance upon him here
to-morrow," said Curzon, interrupting.

"By no manner of means," replied the other, placidly; "for it would b