than my
adversary did on mine.' But at the time when the angry man was
speechless with astonishment, the other proceeded to say to him kindly,
`Friend, I have a dear wife and children. Now, would it have been right
in me to meet you with pistols or other deadly weapons, and to have
entailed lasting misery on those so dear to me, and so dependent on me,
by either being myself your murderer or allowing you the opportunity of
being mine?' That was true moral heroism, dear Walter, and it had its
reward there and then, for the challenger at once grasped the hand of
his companion and said, `It would not have been right on your part; you
have done just what it was your duty to do in declining my challenge,
and I honour you for it. Let us part friends.'"

"Thank you, auntie; I admire your hero immensely. Now, pray give me
another example, if you have one ready."

"I have read a curious story on this subject," replied Miss Huntingdon,
"but I am not sure that it is a true one. I read it in some book years
ago, but what the book was I cannot call to mind. However, the story
may be true, and it may be useful to repeat it, as it just illustrates
my present point about moral courage in reference to duelling. The
story is substantially this:--

"Some years ago, when a regiment was quartered for a time in one of our
county towns, one of the officers of the regiment was challenged by a
brother officer, and refused to accept the challenge. This refusal soon
flew abroad over all the town and neighbourhood, and the consequence was
that every one turned his back on the man who refused to fight. He was
avoided by all of his own rank of both sexes as a craven and a coward.
Of course, he felt this very keenly. To be shut out from houses where
he used to be welcomed; to be looked at with scorn by his brother
officers; to have not a word addressed to him by any one of them when
they met him on parade or at mess; to be the object of ill-concealed
contempt even to the common soldiers;--these things were burdens almost
intolerable to a man who had any respect for his own character as a
soldier. However, for a time he bore it patiently. At last he hit upon
an expedient to prove to the world that he was no coward, which was
undoubtedly original and convincing, though, certainly, by no means
justifiable.

"A large evening party was being given to the officers of the regiment
by some distinguished person in the town; a ball probably, f