of infantry. On being admitted, he informed Captain Tartar
that Don Philip de Rebiera wished to have the pleasure of crossing
swords with him, and requested to know when it would be convenient for
Captain Tartar to meet him.

It was not in Captain Tartar's nature to refuse a challenge; his courage
was unquestionable, but he felt indignant that a midshipman should be
the cause of his getting into such a scrape. He accepted the challenge,
but having no knowledge of the small-sword, refused to fight unless with
pistols. To this the colonel raised no objections, and Captain Tartar
despatched his coxswain with a note to his second lieutenant, for he was
not on good terms with his first. The meeting took place--at the first
fire the ball of Don Philip passed through Captain Tartar's brain, and
he instantly fell dead. The second lieutenant hastened on board to
report the fatal result of the meeting, and shortly after, Don Philip
and his brother, with many of their friends, went off in the Governor's
barge to condole with our hero.

The first lieutenant, now captain _pro tempore_, received them
graciously, and listened to their remonstrances relative to our hero and
Gascoigne.

"I have never been informed by the captain of the grounds of complaint
against the young gentlemen," replied he, "and have therefore no change
to prefer against them. I shall therefore order them to be liberated.
But, as I learn that they are officers belonging to one of his Majesty's
ships lying at Malta, I feel it my duty, as I sail immediately, to take
them there and send them on board of their own ship."

Jack and Gascoigne were then taken out of irons and permitted to see Don
Philip, who informed him that he had revenged the insult, but Jack and
Gascoigne did not wish to go on shore again after what had passed.
After an hour's conversation, and assurances of continued friendship,
Don Philip, his brother, and their friends, took leave of our two
midshipmen, and rowed on shore.

And now we must be serious.

We do not write these novels merely to amuse,--we have always had it in
our view to instruct, and it must not be supposed that we have no other
end in view than to make the reader laugh. If we were to write an
elaborate work, telling truths, and plain truths, confining ourselves
only to point out errors and to demand reform, it would not be read; we
have therefore selected this light and trifling species of writing, as
it is by many