an insult like a gentleman, to accept a challenge if sent him, and these doubts had reached the ears of Robert. He did not mention them to George; he knew his principles on the subject, and he perfectly agreed with him that to fight a duel, when not to fight was considered a disgrace, was no test of courage, but rather a proof of moral cowardice. But reasoning and feeling are very different things. Robert did feel sensitive on this point; he did wish to have the fame of George established, have him deemed a man of honor,-(That_honor which may be claimed by the veriest villain on earth, if he only is a good shot and has killed his adversary.)

There was in the neighbourhood a gentleman, so styled, who had offered himself to Delia Simonds, and been rejected. This circumstance created no surprise with those who were acquainted with the parties, for Arnold Dixon was very ugly in person, and disagreeable in manners, such a being as no lady could love, and Miss Simonds would never marry for riches. But riches, especially if joined with a certain assurance, will often keep a man in a station to which neither his mind or morals entitle him.

Arnold Dixon was thus by sufferance allowed to mingle in good society; yet he knew he was disliked, indeed, detested by the ladies, and he grew cross, and envious of every gentleman younger, or handsomer than himself. George Torrey especially he hated, and it was from him that the insinuations against the character of the Yankee mostly originated.

Robert Simonds despised Dixon, and intended to have no communication with him; but they happened to meet one day at a dinner party, and Dixon, when warmed with wine, threw out reflections against the northern people, mingled with such innuendoes against George Torrey, that Robert's blood was up in a moment, and he repelled the charges with such terms of scorn, as pròvoked his adversary to fresh accusations, till finally the company interposed, and insisted that the affair should be postponed to a more fitting time and place.

Burning with indignation against Dixon, and yet angry with himself for suffering the low malice of such a man to disturb him, Robert Simonds retired from the party. He knew that, according to the code of honor, some expressions Dixon had used, must be considered too offensive to be borne by an honorable man ; that a challenge was expected to ensue ; and since the affair must proceed, he thought he would turn it to the best account possible. He argued that if George Torrey would consent to be his second, it would in a great measure establish his reputation, because he would be found to act with decision and spirit, as he always did in the prosecution of any plan he thought sanctioned by principle. In short, he knew George was possessed of that daring, determined courage, that would, at the call of his country, or in defence of freedom, have prompted him to solicit the post of danger, to stand in the 'imminent, deadly breach,' or lead

the forlorn hope. But he knew, also, that George regarded duelling and its laws with abhorrence and contempt; that he thought it degrading to a civilized man, and horrible for a Christian, to engage or be concerned in an affair of murder.

'And yet,' said Robert to himself, ' he cannot, under all the circumstances, refuse to be my second in this affair, and that will satisfy the world of his courage. O, if his firmness of mind was only known, his courage would nev

er be doubted.'

'You intend to challenge Dixon?" said George Torrey, after he had listened to his friend's story.

'I do I must. You smile, and I know your opinion, and I know it is right, but we must, while we live in the world, be guided by the customs of society. Who can endure the "dread laugh" of derision, that among us follows the man, who is pointed at as a coward? I cannot, I will not, let the consequences be what they may, I shall challenge Dixon. I know he is a mean villain,-I despise him; and yet I shall give him a chance to acquire honor to himself by killing me. I shall do this in obedience to custom,-to a custom that I condemn, and wish was annihilated,—But I shall follow it notwithstanding. Will you, George, be my second ?'

The discussion that followed cannot be given at length, but the conclusion was, that George Torrey, finding he could not reason his friend out of the belief that there existed

no necessity for the duel, determined to take the quarrel and the danger on himself.

'If,' said George, 'this affair cannot be overlooked without incurring disgrace, I will send the challenge. The matter properly belongs to me. It was my section of the country that was vilified; it was me he intended to insult. You generously defended me at the table when I was absent; but that is no reason why you should fight for me when I am present. I repeat it,-if there must be a challenge I will send it, and you may act as my second.' This arrangement was finally adopted. Robert felt some compunctious visitings of conscience while the challenge was penning; but he was so anxious to have his friend, his future brother, considered a man of honor, that he felt glad the affair was to be so decided. He knew George was an excellent marksman, and cool in spirit, and had the perfect command of his muscles. Dixon too, was expert at shooting, but he was often intoxicated either with passion or liquor, and-who can answer for the thoughts of his heart when under the dominion of violent prejudice? thousands have been as culpable as was Robert Simonds, when he eagerly anticipated seeing Arnold Dixon weltering in his blood, slain by the hand of George Torrey.

What did George Torrey anticipate? He did not dare reflect on all the consequences that might be the result of this rash affair. He thought it his duty to send the challenge and meet the foe, rather than permit Robert to

fight. But he hoped the matter would be accommodated; that Dixon would decline, as he might, without the imputation of cowardice, by alleging that he had not intended to insult the party who challenged. And then George flattered himself a little discussion would satisfy all parties.

But George was disappointed; for Dixon not only accepted his invitation to meet him, &c. on the ensuing morning,' but he exultingly added, that he wished to have the affair decided immediately; that he had a friend with him, and they would be on the spot in half an hour, where all preliminaries, &c. might be easily settled.'

'He is drunk,' said Robert, his eyes flashing with joy; your victory is secure.'

My escape may be more probable,' replied George. I will meet him, and stand his shot as your code of honor directs; but I will not return his fire. I risk my own life to satisfy what I consider a wicked prejudice; but I will not risk having the blood of a human being upon my conscience.'

The two friends proceeded, arm in arm, towards the place of appointment. They walked in silence, both wrapped in different, but painful reflections. They had nearly reached the spot, when George, pressing the arm of his friend, said in a low, but distinct tone. Robert, if I fall, say to Delia-'

'You will not fall, you shall not,' interrupted the other, impetuously. 'George, I fear I have done wrong in this business--I have been