false sense of honor. When the preliminaries were adjusted, the parties took their stand, and both fired at the same precise moment, when, horrid to relate, both fell! The officer who gave the challenge, was shot through the heart, and expired without a groan: the other was dreadfully wounded, but not mortally. The sight of his adversary, joined to the extremity of his own pain, deprived the survivor for a time of his senses. In this state of delirium, he was heard to say: I see hell! I see the devils ready to devour me! I hear my adversary calling down imprecations on his murderer! As soon as he became collected, he made use of the little strength that remained to raise himself on his knees, and in that posture he made a vow to God, that no consideration whatever should evermore compel him to trample under foot the laws of God, religion and conscience. Such was his remorse, that he gave himself up into the hands of justice; but, it being satisfactorily proved that he had not been the aggressor, he was honorably acquitted. This lenient sentence no ways pacified his wounded conscience. Accompanied by a fellow officer, who had been privy to the whole affair, he quitted the army, went and buried himself in a frightful solitude, and there he continued a rigid course of penance the remainder of his life.

How partial and unjust must be this barbarous gothic mode of terminating disputes! a mode, which, as it has no foundation in reason, never received the least sanction from any wise or polished nation of antiquity; but which has descended to us from the ferocious barbarity of the Goths and Vandals; a mode in which the innocent and aggrieved person is more likely to become the fatal victim, as a mild and peaceable man is less inclined to acquire or exert a murderer's skill, the effect of which he so cordially abhors. How much more noble and courageous is the conduct of the intrepid Count Louis of Sales. Though this spirited officer was frequently challenged, he always had the courage to decline it. he replied, that he would never go to a place of appointment, but that he should ever continue to go his own way, ready to do his duty as a Christian and a gentleman. He afterwards had a scruple, thinking that this refusal was not sufficiently marked. When another person was highly indignant at his freedom for reproaching him as he uttered

To one

a blasphemy, and sent a confidential person to carry a challenge, the Count replied: I found fault with the person that sent you, because he offended God by his impious language; it ill becomes me to offend him by a maxim of false honor, which is a crime as well as swearing. My only apprehension is to displease God, who will always enable me to defend myself, if unjustly attacked. See his life, written by Buffier; a true model of piety for the secular state.

Among the many enterprises of Louis XIV, his attempt to abolish this ruinous practice by a variety of useful regulations, called the laws of honor, are deserving not only of our admiration, but of our imitation. This code of laws concerning satisfactions and reparations of honor, was drawn up by the maréchals of France, who, at the order of their sovereign, met together for the purpose. It consisted at first of nineteen regulations, which were afterwards confirmed, enlarged, and signed by the great maréchals of France, and dated August, 1653.

AWKWARDNESS IN COMPANY.

WHEN an awkward fellow first comes into a room, he attempts to bow, and his sword, if he wears one, gets between his legs, and nearly throws him down. Confused and ashamed, he stumbles to the upper end of the room, and seats himself in the very place where he should not. He there begins playing with his hat, which he presently drops; and recovering his hat, he lets fall his cane; and in picking up his cane, down goes his hat again. Thus, 'tis a considerable time before he is adjusted.

When his tea or coffee is handed to him, he spreads his handkerchief upon his knees, scalds his mouth, drops either the cup or saucer, and spills the tea or coffee in his lap. At dinner, he seats himself upon the edge of the chair, at so great a distance from the table, that he frequently drops the meat between his plate and his mouth; he holds his knife, fork and spoon differently from other people; eats with his knife to the manifest danger of his mouth; and picks his teeth with his fork.

If he is to carve, he cannot hit the joint; but in labor

ing to cut through the bone, splashes the sauce over every body's clothes. He generally daubs himself all over; his elbows are in the next person's plate; and he is up to the knuckles in soup and grease. If he drinks, 'tis with his mouth full, interrupting the whole company with "To your good health, sir," and "My service to you:" Perhaps coughs in his glass, and besprinkles the whole table.

He addresses the company by improper titles, as, Sir, for My Lord; mistakes one name for another; and tells you of Mr. Whatd'yecallhim, or You know who: Mrs. Thingum, What's her name, or Howd'ye call her. He begins a story, but not being able to finish it, breaks off in the middle, with "I've forgot the rest."

THE ABSENT MAN.

MENACLES comes down in the morning; opens his door to go out; but shuts it again, because he perceives he has his night-cap on; and examining himself further, finds that he is but half shaved, that he has stuck his sword on his right side, that his stockings are about his heels, and that his shirt is over his breeches.

When he is dressed, he goes to court; comes into the drawing room; and, walking upright under a branch of candlesticks, his wig is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the air. All the courtiers fall a laughing; but Menacles laughs louder than any of them, and looks about for the person that is the jest of the company. Coming down to the court gate, he finds a coach; which taking for his own, he whips into it; and the coachman drives off, not doubting but he carries his master. As soon as he stops, Menacles throws himself out of the coach, crosses the court, ascends the stair-case, and runs through all the chambers with the greatest familiarity, reposes himself on a couch, and fancies himself at home. The master of the house at last comes in. Menacles rises to receive him, and desires him to sit down. He talks, muses, and then talks again. The gentleman of the house is tired and amazed. Menacles is no less so; but is every moment in hopes that his impertinent guest will at last end his tedious visit. Night comes on, when Menacles is hardly convinced.

When he is playing at back-gammon, he calls for a full glass of wine and water. It is his turn to throw. He has the box in one hand, and his glass in the other; and, being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose time, he swallows down both the dice, and at the same time throws his wine into the tables. He writes a letter, and flings the sand into the ink-bottle. He writes a second, and mistakes the superscription. A nobleman receives one of them, and upon opening it reads as follows:-"I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon the receipt of this, take in hay enough to serve the winter." His farmer receives the other, and is amazed to see in it, "My lord, I received your Grace's commands."

If he is at an entertainment, you may see the pieces of bread continually multiplying round his plate; 'tis true the company want it as well as their knives and forks, which Menacles does not let them keep long. Sometimes, in a morning he puts his whole family in a hurry, and at last goes out, without being able to stay for his coach or breakfast; and for that day, you may see him in every part of the town, except in the very place where he appointed to be upon business of importance.

You would often take him for every thing that he is not. For a fellow quite stupid, for he hears nothing; for a fool, for he talks to himself, and has a hundred grimaces and motions with his head, which are altogether involuntary; for a proud man, for he looks full upon you, and takes no notice of your saluting him. The truth of it is, his eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and neither sees you, nor any man, nor any thing else. He came once from his country house, and his own footmen undertook to rob him, and succeeded. They held a flambeau to his throat, and bid him deliver his purse. He did so; and coming home told his friends he had been robbed. They desired to know the particulars." Ask my servants," said Menacles, "for they were with me."

JUST AS YOU PLEASE, OR THE INCURIOUS.

A VIRTUOSO had a mind to see

One that would never discontented be,

But in a careless way to all

agree.

He had a servant much of Esop's kind,
Of personage uncouth, but sprightly mind;
"Humpus," says he, "I order that you find
Out such a man, with such a character,
As in this paper now I give you here;
Or I will lug your ears, or crack your pate,
Or rather you shall meet with a worse fate;
For I will break your back, and set you straight.
Bring him to dinner."-Humpus soon withdrew,—
Was safe, as having such a one in view

At Covent Garden dial, whom he found

Sitting with thoughtless air, and look profound-
Who, solitary, gaping without care,
Who is't? wilt

Seemed to say,

go any where!" Says Humpus, "Sir, my master bade me pray Your company to dine with him to-day."

He snuffs; then follows; up the stairs he goes,
Never pulls off his hat, nor cleans his shoes,
But, looking round him, saw a handsome room,
And did not much repent that he was come;
Close to the fire he draws an elbow chair,
And, lolling easy, doth for sleep prepare.
In comes the family, but he sits still;

Thinks, "Let them take the other chairs that will!"
The master thus accosts him, "Sir, you're wet,
Pray, have a cushion underneath your feet.”
Thinks he, "If I do spoil it, need I care?
I see he has eleven more to spare,"

Dinner's brought up; the wife is bid retreat,
And at the upper end must be his seat.
"This is not very usual," thinks the clown:
"But is not all the family his own?

And why should I, for contradiction sake,
Lose a good dinner which he bids me take?
If from his table she discarded be,

What need I care? there's then the more for me.
After a while, the daughter's bid to stand,

And bring whatsoever he'll command.
Thinks he, "The better from the fairer hand!”
Young master next must rise to fill him wine,

And starve himself to see the booby dine.